Heartless Mortality
by Stacie Ann
Summary: AU: Post Seeing Red. Spike Raped Buffy. Buffy wreaks renvenge on those that have hurt her, no longer able to tell good from evil. Dark fic.
1. Prologue

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Title- Heartless Mortality 

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Author- Stacie

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Rating- R; Language, Mentions of rape, Violence.

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Summary-****Post 'Seeing Red'. When you've got nothing left, you're alone, and broken-the Darkness will call.

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Disclaimer- Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel belong to Joss Whedon and Co, FOX, WB, UPN, Mutant Enemy, and whoever else it belongs too. What I'm trying to say is that they are not, under any circumstances, mine. 

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Distribution- *Sigh* Here we go… Trouble With Goodbye, LoD, ff.net, Waiting For You, Denial Haven, A Vampire A Slayer and a Stevedore, Enchanting Place, Reality Twist, Dani's site and anyone else, whom I've forgot to mention, who houses any of my fics. Please ask before you take, I always say yes.

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Thanks To- James for this challenge idea. And, Jenn, for making time in her busy life to beta my fics. 

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A/N- This is James Challenge for 'Seeing Red'. I thought it was brilliant and am lucky enough to get to write it. This will be a very dark fic, I am warning all of you. If you cannot stomach the idea of rape (Spike raping Buffy), this is not for you. But, as I write this, I am asking myself how far am I willing to go with this? I want to express the fury and emotional suffering that Buffy is feeling, but there are also limits that I don't want to cross. 

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Prologue-

In this sorry world we live in, there are many kinds of evils. There is that of the demonic nature, hunting, hurting, and killing because it is woven into their character. It is what they do, have done ceaselessly. There are vampires. Killing only because that is what keeps them alive. And, then there are humans, being with a conscious, a soul. And, though they are always aware of what they do, they may be the most dangerous of them all. Because, souls do not guarantee you are good, and they never will. 

And, then there is the Slayer. The one girl in all the world chosen to fight against all evil and kill their swarms. The Chosen One, meant to always be alone in her fight. Both inner and outwards. She fights against what is inside of her; a killer. Always straining against her inner bounds to keep her warrior at rest. 

But, what if she were pushed to the edge and over? What if the unthinkable happened and she didn't stop it? Couldn't stop it. Locked in her own inner torment, she lets the Slayer out and wreaks her pain upon a population. 

Everything and anything would be doomed.

The Slayer is the ultimate balance between good and evil. Both sides count on her to keep the sense of stability in place. The Chosen One has enough power to end everything or restore it. With that in mind, we now go on to a horror filled tale of pain, chaos, and treachery. 

The is about the Slayer. 

Her name is Buffy Anne Summers and this is her desolate tale. 


	2. Chapter One

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Chapter One- 

+Hollow Disfiguration+

He's still in the house. 

Buffy can hear his heavy footsteps sounding in the hallway. She can still smell the lingering whisky and cigarettes that had been on his breath. It chokes her, making her gag silently as she sits motionless in her bathroom. Each breath hurts her bleeding back. Though, she can and always will be able to take it.

She is the Slayer.

Her mind has shut down, there are no thoughts or emotion running through her body. As she sits motionless on her blood stained floor, she knows she must get out. She knows that he could come back again if she doesn't leave the close walled room. That he could trap her again. Pin her on the ground, with his heavy corpse crushing her fragile, aching body. She snaps out of her dead daze enough to know that she cannot not, under any circumstances, let that happen.

Not again…

Buffy's body shudders almost violently. Little by little, she raises to her feet, slipping in her own blood when she tries to walk. Her small, almost inaudible whimper seems to echo in her ears. She automatically freezes, afraid that he's heard her and will come back for more. When she knows he will stay away, she bounds for her room and locks the door, leaning back against it to breath a sigh of relief. But, a gasp of pain escapes her lips instead as her still fresh wounds touch the smooth wood. She can see herself in the mirror. Her robe is torn in many places. Dried blood stains it forever. The sight of herself takes her back to only mere moments before.

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//His brutal mouth is crushing hers, bruising her.//

She closes her eyes. She can't replay it. She doesn't want to know it happened!

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//"Let yourself feel it…" He whispers.//

She can't breathe, her throat blocked with a silent scream. Please, stop…

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//His hands wander, hurting, violating, cold.//

A crash from below snaps her out of it. She jumps, scared he's coming. Scared he'll find her. That he'll break the lock on her door. She needs to get out of the house, get out of the closed in spaces where he can trap her. Panic makes her heart beat fast as she slips on new clothes. Dirty jeans and a sweat shirt, they're not easy to tear open. 

Her hands shake as she walks down the stairs. He's standing in her kitchen. She can see the glowing light of his cigarette. They meet eyes. His are gleaming, satisfied, taunting her. Her are cloaked with panic and rage. In this moment, she knows that if h approaches her again, she will fight. She will scream, claw, and kill to survive.

He does nothing, except smile evilly. His white teeth gleaming in the dark room. He blows smoke out the side of his mouth. He licks his lips and eyes her up and down. 

"Liked ya better in the robe. Easy access." Spike leers.

She wants to gag as she slowly backs out of the house, her gaze burning into his. She cannot take the chance of turning her back on him ever again. She let out a cross between a grunt of disgust and nervous whimper as she closes the door. 

The rush of fresh air mixes with the smell of blood, whiskey, and stale cigarettes, making her dizzy and stumbled down the stairs. Buffy mind seems to go blank as she walks barefooted in the cool grass, not really feeling anything at this moment. All she's concentrating on is blocking it all out. The feel of his rough, cold hands on her skin. The sting of his sharp rings on her soft flesh. His lips kissing and his teeth biting, she doesn't want to think of it. 

So, she thinks of nothing.

Alone, cold, and suffering in her own backyard.

She blocks it all out, for fear she will break.

*

The air was crisp and cold as Dawn walks down the street. Buffy was going to have a shit fit because she was an hour late. Janice had invited some boys over and she had totally lost track of time. Buffy had been a teen once, why couldn't she understand?

"Besides, it's not my fault that my sister sets a bogus curfew…" Dawn muttered to herself.

Dawn could defend herself, why couldn't her overprotective sister see that?

"Because she's the Slayer." Dawn answered herself. "It's her job to be overprotective." 

Slightly amused with the fact that she was having a conversation with herself, Dawn rounded the corner and was in sight of her house. She saw Spike leave the house and saw him walk was a strut that she hadn't seen in years. She watched him as they neared each other. He carried a large bottle of whiskey and was smoking a cigarette, but it was the look on his face that made her wonder. His eyes gleam like ice in the street light, his lips frozen in a twisted smirk that made Dawn shiver. He didn't seem to notice her as he walked by. She caught a heavy whiff of booze coming from him and blood. She could smell the copper hint of blood on him. 

Dawn's gut twisted in sick anxiety as she entered her home. All of the lights were off and it reeked of blood, booze, and smoke. Dawn set her purse on the chair and slowly walked around. There seemed to be no trace of Buffy anywhere. But, since Spike had been there, she must be there, somewhere. 

"Buffy?" She called out, tentatively.

There was no answer to her call. She decided Buffy might be upstairs, hopefully. She walked into the upper hallway and looked around. Dawn got a strange feeling in her belly, like when you enter a murder scene. Something had happened. Dawn didn't know what, but something had definitely happened. 

"Buffy?" Dawn called, louder this time. "Where are you?"

Her mind raced when, once again, she received no answer. Had something happened to Buffy? Was she hurt? She entered the bathroom and flicked on the light. She almost screamed when she saw dark red blood smearing the white tiled floor. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming so hard that it bled. The strong copper taste made her want to vomit.

"Oh God." She moaned softly. 

Something outside moved and she looked out the window. She could see Buffy wandering around slowly down there. Dawn raced to the backyard, fear making her angry.

"What are you doing out here?" She demanded of her older sister.

It didn't even seem that Buffy had heard her. Her arms were folded, almost protectively, across her chest and she wasn't wearing shoes. Dawn thought she looked pale, but it might have been the moonlight.

"Buffy!" She yelled.

Still, no response.

"Damn it, answer me!" Dawn cried, grabbing her sister by the wrist.

Buffy gasped loudly, her eyes' flying to meet Dawn's, but it was like she wasn't seeing her.

*

Snapped put of her fogged daze, Buffy looked upon her attacker with rage, and fear. Her wrist throbbed with renewed hurt from the bruises. He had grabbed her wrist. Had pinned her down. Tore at her robe…

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//"You're going to let me inside you…"//

Buffy pushed her assailant away from her and was surprised when she heard a feminine scream. Spike doesn't scream…she thought, Not like a girl.

Her vision cleared slightly and she saw it was her sister.

"Dawn…" She said slowly, as if seeing her for the first time.

*

"You're damn right it's me!" Dawn screamed, angry. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

Buffy blinked, looking around, saying nothing, 

"Buffy!" Dawn yelled, snapping her fingers in front of her sisters face.

Buffy jumped, her eyes wide. "What…?" She asked.

"What's wrong with you?" Dawn asks, all anger gone.

*

Dawn really looks at her sister ad knows something is wrong. Her eyes are empty, yet scared. She's disoriented, but defensive. Her hair is a mess and Dawn is pretty sure that her face is bruising. 

"The blood on the bathroom floor is yours, isn't it?" Dawn asked quietly and knew it was when Buffy's scared eyes met her. She seemed to be about to say something when a voice sounded out.

"Well, isn't this nice. Both sisters, sitting ducks."

*

Both girls look up and see Warren standing a few feet away, pointing a shotgun at them. Buffy looks dazed, still. Dawn is angry. Both are taking a stance of warning. Dawn gulps in nervousness as she sees the gun in Warren's hand. It doesn't seem real. Here's nothing they can do. Not again a weapon, a gun. 

"Hmm. Interesting, isn't it? The Slayer and her sister, speechless, powerless. What's a man to do?" Warren mused. 

As he talked on, his gun waved in the air. Dawn's heart jumped every time it was pointed to her. She quickly glanced at her sister to see what was the matter, why she wasn't kicking this computer geeks butt. She was staring at Warren, but she wasn't seeing him. Her eyes were glazed over, her lips quivering. 

"Who to shoot first?" Warren seemed to be talking to himself. "The Slayer?" He mused. "Or, The Key?" He seemed to think as started walking toward them. 

There were sticks scattered across the yard from a recent storm. And, as fate would have it, Warren tripped. He yelped as he fell, involuntarily tightening his finger against the trigger. It seemed to be in surreal slow motion. The blast from the gun seemed to echo in Dawns ears. She could see the bullet barreling towards Buffy. It would kill her if it hit her.

That couldn't happen.

Not again.

Buffy had to live!

Making a snap decision, Dawn pushed her elder sister out of the way, taking the full force of the bullet in the chest.

There was pain. And, then a strange numbness.

And then? Then there was nothing except peace.

*

Unbeknownst to Buffy as she fell to her sisters prone form, Warren's face was filled with horror as he watched the young girl bleed. He could see the shock in the Slayer's gaze. He knew it would soon be filled with murder and rage.

He had to get the hell out of there.

Now.

He ran, dropping the gun on the cold grass. 

Buffy seemed to have a delayed reaction. In her minds eye, she was still feeling Dawn push her out of the way. In a rush, she saw the bullet pierce her sisters soft skin, smelt the blood pouring fro the wound, and heard her sisters' last breath. It wasn't like in the movies. There were no final, last love-filled words. There was just nothing. One moment, Dawn was breathing and screaming. The next, she was still and unmoving. Buffy dropped to her knees, frantically checking for a pulse. The fog that had covered her mind was gone. There was only hysteria, and an unyielding knowledge that she'd never see her sister in this world ever again, in her mind. 

"No…!" Buffy murmured, feeling no pulse in her necks. "Dawn!" She cried, cradling her sisters body. 

The blood was still warm and flowing. It soaked quickly through Buffy's sweatshirt, allowing her to feel the blood that belonged to both of them. She felt an emptiness in her, a bond being broken. 

Dawn was gone.

A scream erupted from the mouth of the Slayer, a sound so primitive, so hollow, so raged that even the heavens seemed to cry.

TBC


	3. Chapter Two

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Chapter Two-

+Bloody Retribution+

Soaking rains poured from weeping skies for over an hour and the Slayer sat in the cold with her dearly departed sister. All the warmth and gentleness that made Dawn who she was, was forever gone. As was the girl whom the Key shared her blood with. Buffy stared at the gaping, bloody hole in her sisters chest. Murder glinted in her eyes. Rage boiled in her blood. Her hands twitched with the need to kill. 

Dawn was cold.

Buffy saw her dear sisters lips turning blue and stood up, gathering her small body in her arms. They had been outside too long. Dawn was going to catch a cold. 

"Silly pumpkin-belly." Buffy cooed softly, sweetly, insanely. "Now look what you've done. Convincing me to let you play in the rain." She shook her head as she started up the stairs.

Buffy looked at Dawn with soft eyes. "Your clothes are soaking and you've probably ruined your pretty shirt." She walked into her sisters dark room. "Lazy girl. Making me carry you when you can walk."

Buffy set her sister on the bed with a gentleness like no other. She then went to her closet and pulled out a girly nightgown, pink with little ruffles. Dawn loved to wear it when no one was around. Buffy shed her sisters dirty, blood stained clothes and changed her into the gown. She brushed out her sisters hair, laying it out over the soft pillow. 

"You look like a princess. I have a present for you." She soothed, leaving the room quickly. 

Buffy went to her own room and took her plush pink pig from its' spot on the cabinet and wrapped it in her sisters arms. 

"See? Mr. Gordo will make you feel better. He'll scare your cold away." She smiled as she kissed her sisters forehead, never noticed how cold or stiff her skin was.

"Goodnight, my little sister."

Buffy gathered the soiled clothing and carried them downstairs. She threw them in the hamper and dragged them into the living room. She took another bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and down a long, burning gulp. Then, she poured the rest into the hamper and threw the bottle against the wall, rage suddenly building in her.

"Dirty…" She murmured. "It's all dirty…"

She grabbed a book of matches, lit them, and dropped them into the hamper. Flames erupted and Buffy breathed in the burning clothes, blood, and booze. A harsh sob escaped her throat and she screamed again, throwing anything and everything within her reach other the wall. 

The loud crashes and shatters of wood and glass didn't break Buffy out of her rage. If anything, she became angrier. Loud, animalistic screams erupted from her throat. It was a horrible, ragged sound. A sound of someone who's blown clear past their own limit. 

This girl had gone past her own years ago.

*

Over two hours away from the unstable Slayer who lived in a small town named Sunnydale, lived a vampire whose body was filled with a soul and a demon. In the city of Los Angeles, it was relatively slow. The night was heavy, as was the heat. But, something was keeping all of the demons inside, and keeping a vampire named Angel on edge. 

The back of his neck prickled and his hair stood on end. Something was going top happen. Soon. If, it had not already. Angel stood on his balcony, watching the busybodies that were LA, down below. Everybody seemed to always be in need of time, in this city. There were other places where time moved slower, and people actually took the time to watch the sun set. And, in some towns, you had to rush inside once the sun had set, and the light was gone. Because, once the harsh threat of the sun was gone, the monsters would come. As they always did and would forevermore.

Sunnydale was like that. A small town atop a hellmouth. Guarded by the only soul in this world who could stop said monsters. The Slayer. One girl in all the world. That same girl happened to be the keeper to Angels' heart. A was he to her.

Though, on this hot, uneventful night, Angel could not help but feel that he had lost something. Something important. Something that he couldn't live without. But, he had no way of knowing what it was. Or even if it was true. 

"Angel!" A loud, familiar voice called from behind him.

Angel turned slightly, seeing Cordelia standing in the doorway. She had her hands on her hips and looked a little upset. 

"What?" He asked her, trying like hell to shake this feeling of anxiety that washed over him in waves.

"Wes and Gunn need you downstairs." She said, turning and disappearing down the stairs. 

Angel sighed as he followed where his friend had gone. He walked slowly, his movements feeling muted and slow. Tonight just wasn't his night. 

"What?" He asked monotonously as he came into sight of his friends.

"Angel, it seems that something strange is happening." Wesley said, staring at the computer.

"Like what?" Angel asked, steeping behind the British man, wishing he'd elaborate.

"I hacked into Wolfman and Hart's demonic ratings system." Wesley swiveled around to face the vampire. "I was going to hook it up to our own computers, so we could get some semblance of the demonic activity in Los Angelus. I thought with some idea of that number, we could have a better chance of stopping it. "

"Wes." Angel gently interrupted, hoping his friend would get to the point.

"Yes, uh, anyways. Over the last fifteen minutes, the demonic activity spiked up almost double its ratings, then plunged down to nothing." Wesley said, his voice troubled. He typed in something into the computer and showed Angel. Lines on the computed when over the top and violently plunged down. 

"What does that mean?" Angel asked, slightly baffled.

"Something extraordinary must have happened to make everything just…stop." Wesley shook his head.

"Yo." Gunn said, making himself noticed. "I was with my crew, we was huntin' down a nest of vamps, and all of a sudden, they just stopped. Stopped attacking us, stopped whatever they were doing. Just stood there." Gunn paused semi-dramatically. "Then they started to scream. All twenty of them. Damn well lost my hearing."

"What could have done this?" Angel asked nobody in particular.

"Anything…or nothing at all…" Wesley murmured.

"Uh-oh…" Cordelia muttered softly.

Angel looked at her. She was swaying on her feet and her eyes were wide and unseeing. 

"Cor?" He asked.

"Vision…" She murmured. "Vision!" She screamed, crumpling to her feet.

She grabbed her head, writhing in pain. Angel was at her side instantly. He grabbed her wrists and was shocked when she shoved him away with inhuman strength.

"Ask me why I could never love you!" She screaming, tears streaming down her face.

But, she wasn't talking to him. She wasn't even seeing him. She was somewhere else, someone else, in a world of pain.

She then let out an animalistic scream. "NO! Stop, don't touch me!" There was a deafening pause. "Stop… Spike, please stop…! Spike, NO!" Cordelia cried. 

Angel froze when he heard Spikes' name. He felt a pit of dread grow in is heart. Something was happening. Something was wrong. Spike was in Sunnydale.

Angel prayed to whatever God who would listen that the person in Cordelia's vision was not Buffy.

He closed his eyes and willed his prayer to reach the unwilling ears of a God so many believed in. He willed it not to be Buffy. Willed with all of his being. 

But, somehow, he knew that prayer was fruitless.

He knew…though he didn't want to believe.

He knew that the chants of 'no' coming from Cordelia were really Buffy's.

He knew.

*

It was a fun night. Fun, that had once been forgotten was now being found again. Laughter rang from everyone as the night wore on. Four friends, two couples were having the time of their lives. Getting away from the magic, the blood, and the constant fighting. They were happy.

Will and Tara, and Xander and Anya had agreed to go on a double date. They had been gone most of the night, playing around, having dinner, and just content in their own bliss. There had been a carnival on the outskirts of the town. 

And, then the phone rang.

The four of them stopped suddenly, all staring at the small phone clipped to Willow's belt. It seemed to be a foreign sound to them. Their day had been filled with laughter, music, and happy sounds. The ring seemed hollow, alarming. It was almost as if they knew once someone answered the phone, they lives would change. 

And, not for the better.

"Will somebody answer that? It doesn't seem as if it will stop anytime soon." Anya barked quietly.

Willow shot her an irritated look, then reached for her phone. "Hello?" She answered, covering her other ear to hear the caller better.

There was no answer, but Willow could hear the sound of harsh breathing. Her mind flashed to the many horror movies that she had seen over the years.

"Hello?" She asked again, her voice slightly impatient.

She was about to hang up when she heard an almost muted voice mumbled her name.

"Who is this?" Willow asked, slightly drifting from her friends

"Dawn's cold." The voice said.

It was Buffy.

"Buffy? Is that you? What are you talking about?" Willow asked.

"She was laying in the rain, and now she's cold. She sick." Buffy murmured.

"Dawn's sick?" Willow asked, not know quite what was going on.

"And, there was blood. I burned it. She's clean." Buffy's voice was raising.

"Blood? Buffy, are you and Dawn alright?"

"He came! They both did! They hurt us! His hands were cold." Buffy paused. "I begged him to stop… He wouldn't listen!"

She was screaming now. 

Something was wrong, oh God, what was happening?

"Buffy…" Willow tried to break in, but Buffy wouldn't allow it.

"He said I wanted it! Said I was like him… I'm not… I'M NOT!" Buffy cried. "The gun went off… Said I loved him. The floor was cold and so is Dawn."

There was a heavy silence. Willow was too confused and scared to say anything. Buffy was breathing harshly again.

"Willow, Dawn needs you to tuck her in." 

Then there was a click. The connection was lost.

Willow was afraid. 

Something was wrong. She could feel it. Smell it.

The smell of death filled the air, it seemed. Willow chocked and dropped the phone. Her friends asked her what was wrong, but she didn't answer. Picking up her phone, she ran to her car.

She had to get home.

*

The bullet went off.

Buffy was pushed out of the way.

Dawn was hit.

Dawn was dead.

Cold.

The scene played over and over and over again in Buffy's head. She couldn't make it stop. 

"Lookin a lit'le lonely there, love." A voice drawled from behind her.

She knew who it was. Never in her life would she ever forget that voice. His voice… The movie in her head of her sister dying stopped. Her shoulders sagged in sad relief. But, before she could block it out, a new film started. One just as awful as the first.

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//In her minds eyes, she can see herself turning on the water. She can hear her old pipes groan as the tepid water spills into the white basin. Her back still hurts. The wounds are raw and still bleeding. The hair on the back of her neck stands up and she hears heavy footsteps. She knows who they belong too.//

Another thing she will never forget.

"No!" A ragged cry escaped Buffy's throat. She lifts her hands up and grabs at her head, gripping and pulling her hair. 

Anything to make it stop.

Behind her, Spike steps to her slowly, a smiling stretching his gaunt cheeks. There is a merciless gleam in his eyes. He has broken her. 

Finally.

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//He wraps his arms around her waist, squeezing hard, kissing her neck.

"Spike, stop." She orders.

"You love me." He whispers.

"No." Buffy whispers, knowing it is the truth.

"I'll show you, you love me." He murmurs.

He turns her around and kisses her. His teeth bite her lower lip hard and she cries out. He steers her to the wall and pushes her up against it, gripping her robe.

"Spike, no!" She yells, and pushed him away.

Hard.

He stumbles away, recovering and reaching for her again. She kicks away, into the wall behind him. His eyes widen slightly, as if waking up.

"I-I'm sorry…" He mutters.

"Get out." Buffy orders, clenching her fists.//

Buffy makes a whimpering sound. It won't stop! Tears pool in her eyes. She can feel it all over again. God, make it stop…

Spike is right behind her. Her knees buckle and he catches her, holding her flush against him. She shrieks, thrashing away from him like a wild animal. He holds her tight. 

Then, he lets go.

His gaze is looking down the street, mesmerized by something. There's smoke in the air. There's a fire. He can see it. He knows where it is.

"Goddamn." Is the only thing he says.

He does nothing as Buffy, taking this distraction for all it's worth, runs away from him and soon out of sight.

But still he stares.

The Summers' house is on fire.

TBC


	4. Chapter Three

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Chapter Three

+Inhumane Decisions+

No one can speak as the car pulls to a stop in front of the driveway. The large yellow house that once knew joy and happiness is now engulfed in bright ginger colored flames. No one can breathe, speak, or move as they watch with a morbid sense of curiosity. 

Willow is the first to do anything at all. She jumps out of the car, running like a wild women toward the front door.

"Willow, no!" Tara calls after her, attempting to follow her beloved.

"Stop." Is all that Willow says as she throws her hand up, securing a magical barrier around her friends. 

She can't have them following her. They might get hurt and she can't lose them. Because, they will all need each other for what is to come. She can feel it. 

Willow throws open the door and a whoosh of hot flames greet her. Her skin tightens against the heat and her hair singes. 

"Back!" She yells, with a wave of her hand.

The blaze retreats, almost warily, as if it had been scolded. Though she can hear her friends' scream for her to stop, she runs into the house. Her heart pounds with each heavy step she makes. Using magic to extinguish the fire, she easily makes it to the stairs. Everything seems slow and sluggish to Willow as she climbs each step. 

All she can think of is Dawn and Buffy.

She has to save them. 

Her lungs feel small and she's having a hard time breathing. There's too much smoke, still, though most of the fire is gone. Willow grips the door frame to Dawn's bedroom.

She's sleeping.

She's safe.

Willow breathes a sigh of relief and dimly wonders how the girl could sleep through a fire. Her eased smile slowly fades away when she notices that Dawn's chest doesn't not move when she breathes. That she doesn't breathe at all. Willow knows she needs to go over there. She knows she needs to check if Dawn has a pulse. 

Her mind flashes back to Buffy's call.

//"The floor was cold and so is Dawn."//

Willow had no idea what Buffy meant about the floor. Her weary mind couldn't figure it out.

//"Willow, Dawn needs you to tuck her in."//

Willow turned away from the sights of Buffys' still sister. In her heart of hearts, she knew Dawn was dead. There was nothing to be done about that. Not this time. 

Willow pushed herself away from the door and rushed throughout the hallways, screaming, "Buffy!"

If Buffy had been there when Dawn had died, and Willow knew she had been, there was no telling what the Slayer might do. 

"Buffy, where are you?" Willow called, her voice ragged. "Buffy, answer me!" 

With no answer she could hear, Willow fell to her knees once again in front of Dawns' room. She couldn't make herself go in. Couldn't make it real, that the girl she had considered a younger sister for years, was dead.

*

It had been thirty long minutes since Cordelia had emerged from her vision. Angel had tried to help his friend, but Cordelia had screamed and cowered away from him. For one hour, Cordelia had been stuck in her mind, living the horrific life of someone else. She had screamed, cried, and been heart stopping-ly silent. Fred had been the only one she had allowed to help her. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were tear streaked when she slowly met Angel's eyes.

Angel stood strong and opened his mouth to ask. But, he couldn't. His throat closed and his shoulders sagged. He sat in his own chair and buried his face in his hands.

"Cordelia? Do you feel up to explaining your vision?" Wesley asked, standing strong whereas Angel could not.

Cordelia's voice broke and she hugged the blanket Gunn had gotten her closer to her body. 

"This time…" Cordelia started quietly. "I wasn't an outsider looking in. I was the person in the vision. I felt what she felt, heard what she heard, did what she did."

"Who is she?" Gunn asked.

Angel looked up, meeting Cordelia's broken eyes.

He knew.

"She was the on you saw, wasn't she?" Angel asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

Cordelia nodded and started to weep again. 

A short, harsh sob of his own escaped Angels' throat before he composed himself. No one else knew what to make of this.

"She's broken, Angel." Cordelia sobbed. "He hurt her and Dawn's gone. Angel, she's gone!" 

"Your vision was about Buffy?" Wesley asked, confusedly.

"Uh-huh." Cordelia whimpered, nodding. She was trying her best to compose herself, but this wasn't like any other vision she had had before. Always, she had been detached, yet sympathetic towards the people she saw in her visions. Not with this one. No, in this vision, she had been Buffy. Buffy's own emotions were now shared with Cordelia. 

"Cordelia, what did you see?" Wesley asked, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

Cordelia flinched slightly, and met Wesley's' eyes. "I saw Buffy. I was Buffy. She was hurt in a battle, her back had been injured. All she wanted to do was take a bath to soothe it, Wes, that's all she wanted to do!" Cordelia cried, her shoulders shaking.

In his own mind, Angel silently cried along with Cordelia. He wanted to know badly what had happened to Buffy. He knew she wasn't dead, physically. But, emotionally, judging by Cordelia's state of mind, might be another story. But, he knew it all had to do with Spike.

Anger raged inside Angel, making him momentarily forget about his sorrow.

Spike.

Angel clenched his fists, picturing the face of his worthless grandchild in his mind.

With quiet anger and sympathy, Angel walked over to Cordelia. He lifted her chin gently so she would meet his eyes.

"Cordelia." He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Please, just tell me what happened."

She was quiet for a long moment and Angel thought she was lost in a daze when she whispered, "He raped her, Angel. Spike raped her."

A howl of fury and sorrow filled the hotel and the City of Angels. 

Unbeknownst to the ex-watcher of AI, the computer that was still hooked to the law firms own, changed screens. It showed the demonic rating for the world. A blood red line spiked up over the top of the grid, identically matching the howls of the ensouled vampire. As the vampires' cry died down, the rating did too.

And, all was quiet again.

*

In the graveyard, the Slayer sat alone, emotionless, staring at her mothers' grave. Silent tears of absolute nothingness streamed down her cheeks. Her hair was twisted and matted with dirt, blood, and soot. Beside her sat a large duffle filled with weapons. She had snuck back into her smoke and soot filled home and stole away her weaponry. She had seen Willow laying in front of her sisters door. She had done nothing except step right over her, effectively locking out her friends' cries. 

Nothing mattered anymore.

Except…one single thing.

Revenge.

But, that revenge that had kept her from breaking had led her to the dark graveyard. To her mothers' final resting place, only mere feet from where her own had been. Once, her own tombstone had been well kept and shiny, the words haunting anyone who read them. Now, the stone was grimy, covered in thick weeds and drifting dirt. It crumbled, in certain places, the stone half sunk into the ground. 

Buffy kept her eyes averted from it. She didn't want to see it, didn't want to remember. 

Her throat was thick with tears and sorrow as she spoke to her mother. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't kill him for you. For her, when I had the chance." She whispered words she had said so long ago to Giles, hoping her mother would understand they way he did. "It was up to me to take care of her. I failed." Buffy could not say her sisters name. "Mommy, I'm sorry!" She cried, her voice ragged as she leaned her head into her hands, her forehead touching the cold tombstone. 

Harsh, wailing sobs escaped the Slayers' throat. She had failed. She had not protected her sister. It was his fault. If he had not come to her tonight, she would not have been the mess she was. She would have been able to react instead of being stuck in this fog that seemed to dominate her mind. 

At that moment, something snapped inside of Buffy Summers. She felt it happen. All of the restraints and bonds she had created over the years, separating herself from the Slayer, were gone. Broken and useless in her hazy mind. In her minds eyes, Buffy pictured herself curling into a protective ball while the Slayer inside of her stood in front, protecting her. 

When Buffy stood up, it was then all hell started to break loose.

*

Warren was afraid.

Warren was hiding.

Warren would be dead soon.

He knew this. Knew it deep inside of his frenzied mind. Over and over, he replayed killing the Slayers' sister. His intention wasn't to kill them. Really, all he had wanted to do was scare them. Maybe wound one of them, but not fatally. 

Not like he did.

And now? A grief-stricken-pissed-off-mentally-unstable Slayer was after him.

His time was numbered and dwindling down. 

"What did I do?" He asked himself, quietly.

"That's exactly what we'd like to know." 

Warren whipped around, his heart beating wildly in his chest. But, his death was still pending. It wasn't the Slayer. Just Jonathan and Andrew.

"Damn it, don't ever do that again!" Warren hissed, his face pale.

"Word on the proverbial street is that you did something to piss off the Slayer. She's on a rampage. The streets are quiet, man. _No one's_ coming out while she's like this. What did you do?" Jonathan asked angrily.

"I didn't do anything!" Warren protested.

"Liar." Andrew cut in. 

"Shut up!" Warren yelled. "It was her fault!"

"What was her fault?" Jonathan asked him.

"I went to their house. I had the gun, you guys knew I was going to do it." Warren accused. "Why didn't you _stop_ me?" He hissed.

"Why didn't you stop yourself?!" Jonathan exploded. "Whatever you did, whatever you've done to her… She's out for your blood."

"The gun went off!" Warren blurted out, his panic raising. 

All three of them were quiet as they contemplated the meaning of what he said.

"Warren…" Andrew whispered. "What did you _do_?" 

"He killed my sister."

The rasping voice that had said it, made all of them stop. None of them had said it. Slowly, they turned around and saw Buffy standing in the doorway. Her clothing was wet and blood stained. In one hand, she carried a machete. It gleamed in the pale light. Her hair was wet and wild as it clung to her face. 

But, it was her eyes that had caught all of them by surprise. They were empty. Filled with nothing that was of Buffy. Except hate, rage, and murder.

Hell had come herself, knocking on their door.

*  


Willow was able to compose herself. She had lain there for God knows how long, unable to move. Buffy had come, and Buffy had gone. Willow had noticed a change in her friend and knew something was wrong with her. But, though Willow had screamed her name, Buffy didn't even bat an eye. She had just grabbed her weapons and stepped calmly over Willow as if she hadn't even seen her.

Willow stood on shaky legs and held up her hand. 

"Extinguish." She commanded and the flames were gone. 

She had to get back to her friends. They were still trapped inside of her magic force field. She could still feel Tara trying to fight it. But, Tara wasn't strong enough. 

Willow slowly climbed down the stairs and walked outside. 

"Willow, what happened?" Xander demanded, his brown eyes angry.

Willow lifted the magic and watched as her friends stumbled out of it.

"Xander, please take Tara and Anya to the Magic Shop." Willow said in a monotonous voice.

"Will..?" Xander was confused.

"And, come back here when you're done." Willow went on.

"Willow, I'm not leaving you." Tara said.

Willow smiled sadly and shook her head. "You have too."

"Willow, I can't. I-"

"You're going!" Willow screamed, her eyes turning black, her voice seemed to echo into the night.

That shocked everyone into doing what she said. Xander said he would hurry back.

She knew he would.

*

Angel had raged for long moments at a time. Right now, he was in the garden tearing apart anything he could get his hands on. Everyone was smart enough to know not to interfere. This was something Angel had to do. He had to release some of the rage boiling inside of him. His face was ridged in his vampire visage. His eyes were an angry orange, leaning on red. His lips were curled into a heartless snarl, furious growl escaping them as he slammed his fists into the brick walls. 

Cordelia sat inside, her face buried in her hands as she wept silently for the girl she once knew well. Cordelia could still feel her pain, physical and emotional. Cordelia so wanted to help her, but she wasn't strong like Buffy. At the moment, she couldn't take any of it. Angel was losing it outside, and she had a feeling that it wasn't finished. Her vision had ended when Spike had left the bathroom. 

Something else was happening.

"Cordelia, I'm so sorry that you have to go through this." Fred murmured, wanting to help her sorrowed friend.

Cordelia's head snapped up and her eyes were filled with a fury she felt deep in her soul. "Don't be sorry for me! It didn't happen to me. It has nothing to _do_ with me!" Cordelia yelled. "I'm just the messenger. It's Buffy that's going through this. Feel sorry for her." 

Fred was taken aback by the hostility in Cordelias' voice. "I was just trying to help you." She said meekly.

"I don't need help. I wasn't the one who was raped by her ex's relative. I wasn't the one who-arghh!" Cordelia never got to finish her rant because she was blasted with another vision. 

Her body slumped and her eyes rolled back into her head. 

"Angel, it's Cordelia!" Fred screamed to the raving vampire.

Cordelia's body shook with violent convulsions, her eyes moving under the closed lids. Her fists clenched hard until her knuckles turned white. Gurgling gasping noises escaped her throat as she lay there. 

Angel ran inside, his anger slightly diminished. He was careful as he held Cordelia body, trying to still her. Wesley grabbed the seers head, forcefully, and stuffed a rag inside of her mouth.

"What are you doing?" Gunn asked him, looking at the ex-watched as if he was crazy.

"It stops her from biting her tongue off." Wesley explained as Cordelia clamed down slightly.

Cordelia was talking softly, after moments of uneasy silence, her words muffled from the rag.

"She's in her vision." Fred murmured quietly.

Cordelia opened her eyes, but was not seeing them. They were dark chocolate pools of tears and fear. Her eyes darted around and saw things the rest of them could not. She pushed Angel away from her and stood up. She threw the rag to the ground and walked a few unsteady steps forward. Her express was dazed, her eyes squinted as if trying to make out something far away. Her head shook slightly, she wiped her arms compulsively. 

Angel, Gunn, Wesley, and Fred watched in morbid curiosity as Cordelia stood completely still, only to fall to her feet as if being pushed. Moment's later, Cordelia crawled over the floor, and sat on her knees, seeming to hold something in her arms when in reality, she held nothing. Tears streamed out of her eyes, her lips quivered, her hands shook. 

"No!" She gasped, her voice sounding not one bit like her own. "Dawn!" She cried.

Angel flinched, seeing Buffy in Cordelia at that moment. Everyone jumped as Cordelia let out a shrieking scream, sorrow filling the ears of those who listened. Fred covered her ears.

But, Angel watched.

Cordelia fell to the floor again, her eyes closed, her body silent and motionless. 

Angel closed his eyes, though in his mind he still watched. His heart broke as he pictured Buffy doing what Cordelia had acted out. Though, Cordelia was quiet now, he knew it was not over.

Not by a long shot.

TBC


	5. Chapter Four

****

Chapter Four

+Death Waits+

Willow sat on the porch steps, her head in her hands. She didn't know what to do. For once in many years, Willow had no clue as to what to do. Her mind was blank with a strange numbness. She still hadn't contemplated the notion, much less the thought, of Dawn being dead. 

Headlights flashed through red hair and Willow looked up. Xander pulled into the driveway with a squeal of his tires. He parked the car and jumped out, stomping furiously up tm Willow.

"I did what you _ordered._" He mocks angrily. "Now, tell me what the hell is going on."

Willow said nothing as she slowly stood up, taking Xander's hand and leading him into the quiet house. Both of them trekked slowly through the rooms and up the stairs. Willow stops right outside Dawn's room and lets go of Xander's hand.

Slowly, she opens the door and lets Xander walk in.

"What the…" Xander trails off. "Dawn?" He asks slowly.

He touches the girls' cheek and is shocked to feel cold, clammy skin. There is no warmth in this body. There is nothing of what used to be the girl he'd known close to forever. A harsh sob escapes his throat before he pushes every emotion he is feeling, down.

"What happened?" He asks Willow.

"I don't know." Willow answers him. "When I got here…she was like this."

Xander looks closely and can't see blood staining Dawns' pink night gown. There's too much blood. It's dried and caked on. It sticks to her hair and stains her beautiful face. Xander swallows acidic bile that rises up within him. He strokes Dawn's cold hair and then forces himself to turn away. He hurts terribly as he looks at his friend.

"Where is Buffy?" He asks.

Willow looked at him, her doe eyes tearing up. "I don't know, Xander." She whispers. "I don't know."

*

Warren can't breathe as he looks at the emotionally dead Slayer. His hands start to shake uncontrollably. Fear rises within him in heavy gusts. He's frozen in terror as he watches the girl smile coldly.

"You killed her." She whispers in a low voice that tells him he will die tonight. "Shot her like she was nothing but fair game."

"I-I didn't mean too!" Warren cries helplessly as she walks forward.

She laughs low in her throat. "Maybe. But, you did. My sister is _dead_! She is cold! She is lost! And it's your fault!" Her voice has turned into a hysterical scream. "And now you have to pay." She says this with such calm, that it seems to reverberate in the room. 

She raises her weapon and brings it down. Warren closes his eyes and is grabbed by Jonathan. 

"You idiot, _move_!" He yells as they start to run.

Warren jerks out of his reverie of fear and runs with his friends. He can hear the Slayer screaming and running behind them. They have to get out of here, or she will slaughter them all. 

The three friends run through dirty tunnels and can hear the Slayer sloshing behind them. By now, they've entered the sewers. There are enough twists and turns where they can lose her fast. But, there are also enough which could lead them right back to her.

Andrew is leading the three. He finds a ladder and rushes to it, pulling it down and climbing up t. Warren and Andrew follow closely. They push the manhole up and escape into the street. 

Buffy's climbing madly behind them, her angry grunts drifting up to the street. The three wait anxiously. There's no where to go. All open fields. If they run, she will catch them. If they don't, they will surely die tonight.

No one breathes as they hear a scream and a thud below them.

She has fallen. 

They have enough time to get away.

There's only one place they can go for safety.

One place and one place only.

The magic shop.

*

Giles watched the two girls whom he knew so well with wary eyes. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, glancing his way every so often. He had not an idea of what was going on. Xander had dropped off Anya and Tara with instructions that they don't leave this place until he and Willow return. The tone of Xander's voice had been terrified and furious at the same time. His eyes had been dark and his mouth twisted into a grimace. 

Giles was restless.

He only knew what little he had been told.

"Something's going on at Buffys'." Anya had snapped.

"Willow's taking care of it." Tara had shyly offered.

That made Giles ever more weary. He knew the way Willow had 'taken care of things'. The newly resurrected Buffy was proof enough of how Willow 'took care of things'. 

Sighing, Giles went back to his book when the combined sound of panting, the door jingle, and the slam of the door filled his ears. Giles jumped to his feet, as did Tara, who was mumbling chants as their guests paled.

Jonathon, Warren, and Andrew.

"What the in the bloody hell are you doing here?" Giles growled at the three menaces.

"We're… She's… I-I…" Andrew stumbled over his words as he fought to catch his breath.

"The Slayer's after us!" Jonathon wheezed out.

"What?" Giles asked incredulously.

"She's trying to _kill_ me!" Warren cried.

"What'd you do to piss her off?" Anya asked bluntly.

"I-It was an accident!" Warren screamed.

Giles calmly stepped forward. "What have you done?" He asked in a deadly calm voice.

Warren stood defiantly for a few seconds before crumbling to a sobbing mess of the floor. "I didn't mean too! I didn't!" He wailed pitifully.

Giles was fuming now as he grabbing the pathetic excuse for a man on his feet and against the wall. "Answer me, boy!" 

"She shot her sister, the idiot." Jonathon scoffed angrily.

"What?" Tara gasped unbelievingly.

"It was an accident, damn it, isn't anyone listening?" Warren screeched.

"You shot Dawn?!" Giles raged, slamming the boy against the cabinets.

"Stop!" Andrew screamed, causing everyone to look at him.

"Look, it doesn't matter who did what. She's coming after us! She'll be here any minute!"

Lightening flashed brightly, causing the power to flicker. Thunder boomed and everyone looked at the shadow of a drenched girl in the store window. The girl breathed heavily, raising her gleaming knife into the air.

"Too late." Tara breathed into the darkness as shattering glass filed the room.

Indeed it was, too late.

*

Cordelia is quiet now. She sits in a chair, holding her legs to her chest. She's cold and a blanket does nothing for her. She isn't cold from the air, she's cold from the darkness. At this moment, it swallows her like a bottomless pit. She sees nothing except the horror of a girl she never liked. She feels the pain of a girl she never bothered to know. She smells the blood-stained vengeance that runs in the veins of a girl she thought she hated.

Cordelia now knows she could never hate this girl. She's knows her in every way, now. She knows her pain, her suffering, and her fight. In a way, Cordelia has turned into that girl.

She hates it.

She hates herself.

She hates the world.

This girl was born to save the world, and she has, many a time. In return, she gets nothing except pain and suffering every way she turns. And, tonight was that last straw.

"It's not fair…" She whispers to herself.

She is alone on the terrace. She wanted to be by herself, with no one around her now. Emotions that were not hers swirled in her mind. She stood up and looked at the dark sky. Heavy clouds loomed in the distance. A storm was coming. In the figure of the weather and a girl.

"It's not fair!" Cordelia screamed up to the heavens, knowing they, whoever they were, could hear her. "Do you hear me?! It's not FAIR!" Tears streamed down the angry seers face. "She did everything for you! Gave up everything! Do you know what you've done?!" She shrieked as she slumped against the railing, hating it all. 

The clouds drew closer and so did the girl.

Cordelia looked far into the distance, out of the city, past the highway, two hours away.

"It's just a matter of time, now…"

*

Angel watched his long time friend break apart. It pained him to no end to see her go through this. What 'this' was, he didn't exactly know, though he had an idea. Cordelia wouldn't tell him the rest. He knew what Spike…did to Buffy. Thinking about it made him want to kill everything in sight. It took every momentum of his will power not to rush to Sunnydale and show the good-for-nothing vampire what happened to those who hurt who Angel loved. But, now was not the time. Soon, but not now.

Angel knew there was more to come and he needed to be here.

But soon…

William the Bloody would know what hell is really like. 

TBC


	6. Chapter Five

****

Chapter Five-

+Sorrow's End+ 

"Oh my God."

The occupants of the tiny Magic Shop looked out the window in fear. Their friend, their savior, was standing outside in the storm, looking in like a ghost. The look on her face was one of implacable rage and sorrow. 

Anya looked at Tara. She was the one who had let out the three whimpered words. She pitied the blonde witch. She knew that God could do nothing to help them now. They were all at the wrath of the Slayer. Goddess, save them if they survived this.

"God can't help us now." She whispered as the Slayer lifted her arm.

Buffy threw her dagger through the window, straight at them. Anya screamed and fell to the ground, covering herself. Glass shattered everywhere. Winds and rain blew in, chilling everything. Tara tried a protection spell, but Giles stopped her. 

"Do not make yourself the object of her rage." He warned. 

The knife stuck into the cabinet, mere inches away from Warren's head. He whimpered in fear.

"Do _not_ run from me!" Buffy screamed, her voice booming and deadening at the same time. "Do you hear me?! She didn't get to run! She didn't get to escape, and _neither do you._" She threatened as she calmly walked into the building. 

"No, please…" Warren whimpered, trying to scramble away.

"Shut up!" Giles hissed. "Buffy, what are you doing?" He asked, his voice softening. 

Buffy met his eyes and her own seemed to break. "Giles, he shot her. She's gone, and she's cold, _and he has to pay!_" Her whimper turned into a scream. 

Her eyes turned cold again and a small, dead smile spread across her lips. "He will pay." She grabbed her knife and yanked it out of the wood. She lunged at him, grabbing him by the lapels. She held the machete inches from his heart, grinning madly. She breathed hard, her eyes wild.

"You can't run from me, you can't hide. I can smell your fear." She licked her lips and went on. "You made a mistake when you came to my home. When you shot my sister! Why wasn't it me? Why her? WHY?!" She screamed, her emotion truly showing. 

"I-I-I-I'm s-sorry!" Warren cried, fear taking over.

Buffy snarled and buried the dagger to the hilt into his ribs. She then turned the knife, feeling the bone separate. Her smile was sickly and her eyes full of glee. He screamed and she laughed. This wasn't enough to kill him. A mere flesh wound as far as she was concerned. But, then, she wanted his death to be slow and painful.,

She would make him pay.

His eyes rolled back into his head as he fell unconscious. She dropped him to the floor and kicked him in the stomach. 

"GET UP!" She screamed, her voice demanding.

His eyes fluttered, but he didn't move. Buffy reared her foot back again, fully intent on making him wake.

Giles grabbed her and held her tight.

"Buffy! Buffy, this is not the way!" He cried into her ear.

She turned around, with fear and panic in her eyes.

"He has to pay, Giles! He has too! For Dawn!" She shrieked.

"Yes, but not this way! Not by death!" Giles said.

"It has to be this way!" She growled.

"STOP!" Tara screamed, throwing her arm in Buffy's direction. 

Buffy was torn from Giles' arms and into the opposite wall. She was bound by magical restraints and she screamed, a horrible, shrill sound.

"Get out!": Tara yelled to the boys, her voice thick with power.

"No!" Buffy shrieked. "What are you doing?!"

Lightening flashed and the power went out. Tara was momentarily startled and she let her guard down for only an instant. But, that was all it took for Buffy to get free and throw Tara into the wall. Tara's head smashed through the glass showcase and she fell silent, blood dripping from various cuts and gashes.

Her eyes were closed.

She wasn't moving. 

*

Angel paced the lobby, his mind feeling heavy and muddled. He was tried. More tired than he ever remembered being. His body felt slow and muted. His eyes wanted to close. But, it was only his corporal body that felt the weariness. His soul was wide away. His demon was howling inside of him. Everything in his entire being was screaming at the unfairness of what was now taking place. He so desperately wanted to believe it was all a horrible dream. A nightmare.

But, the thing was, that it wasn't even close to being a dream. This was real. Extremely real. And, there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. 

His best friend was upstairs, crying her heart out, because of what The Powers had shown her. Of what The Powers had allowed to happen. Angel knew that They had the power to stop anything. Why hadn't they stopped this? Why had they allowed this to happen? Why weren't they protecting her? 

But, the real question was, why hadn't Angel protected her?

Not his friend, not Cordelia. This was her job. Nothing could have stopped it. But, Buffy. She was suffering. Burying herself deeper within her mind and letting all hell break loose. At her own hands. He knew exactly what she was doing now. He knew what she was feeling. He could feel her emotions as if they were his own. She was fighting, bleeding, dying within herself. 

And he could do NOTHING to stop it.

Nothing at all.

Angel stopped at the French doors and stared out, his vision blurring with tears. Damn this world. Damn everything that tainted it. Himself included. He leaned against the cold glass, his knees buckling. He shook violently as he slid to the ground. His heart hurt. 

It bled for the broken women he loved. The broken women he would have to face, to fight, to stop. She would come, and soon, vengeance tainting her every move. Harsh sobs caught in his throat and he couldn't breathe. 

He would kill him! Murder him, teach what hell really was! How had Angel let this happen? How had he left the door open for Spike to just strut into Buffy's life? Ruining her? Breaking her? She didn't deserve that! She deserved love. Care. Truth. And, trust. 

Spike didn't know the meaning of those words. 

He only knew one thing.

The kill.

And, whom had he learned that from?

Angelus himself.

****

'Do not blame it on me, you pansy-ass. I loved her just as much as you did! It wasn't my fucking decision to leave her! That was yours, soul-boy.' Angelus hissed inside of Angel's mind. 

His words rang true. 

It was Angels' fault.

But, that would be fixed.

She would be here soon.

He needed rest to be able to save her.

To bring her back.

Again.

*

Thunder rolled through the sky and Willow looked up. Something was wrong. Deadly wrong. As much as Willow hadn't wanted to leave, Xander had forced her to get into the car with him and go to the Magic Shop.

"There is nothing we can do for Dawn, Willow. She's gone." He told her, his voice emotionless.

He was being strong for her.

Willow said nothing and pressed her forehead against the cool windowpane. Her head hurt. Her stomach twisted with anxiety. She watched the clouds roll through the sky. 

She looked at the low moon and whispered. "Where is Buffy?"

Her eyes grew black as reality faded for her. She was looking into the Magic Shop. Buffy was screaming, but she couldn't hear the words. Warren was against the wall with a knife in his side. Anya was cowering on the ground. And Tara, oh God…Tara! She was laying so very still in the middle of the broken glass case. She was bleeding.

Willow gasped and panted for air. Xander swerved the car.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded.

"Drive faster!" She screamed.

*

Dead.

Gone.

Cold.

Still.

Images of Dawn flashed in Buffy confused mind. She fell to her knees and screamed.

'Make it stop! I don't want to see this!' She screamed in her own mind.

She could hear the gun going off. She could smell the sickening stench of blood and gun powder. Her body shook and once again, she saw Dawn fall limp, to the ground.

"No!" She screamed. "No, no, no, NO!"

Thunder boomed and broke Buffy out of her mental hell. Her eyes cleared and she saw she was alone. Warren and the other boys were gone. Tara lay on the floor bleeding. Anya was on the floor, quivering in fear. Giles was no where to be found. 

Buffy stood up, her knees shaking weakly. She staggered to the blood stained floor and picked up her dagger. She sniffed the blood staining the gleaming silver. She could smell the fear and agony of the boy. She smiled and licked the blade, tasting the terror he had felt when she had come at him. Buffy laughed this time, the look on her face purely maniacal. Her hair hung in her face, her features pale and emotionless. Her eyes were blank except for the rage that swam in their depths. Her clothes were blood stained, her own, Warren's, and Dawn's covering it all. Her own cheek had been cut by glass, her own blood mingling in her senses. 

It egged her on. Whispered to her. Told her to kill.

Rain fell harder and Buffy staggered out the door, the heavens flashing their warning by lightening. Hell itself was quaking in dread, demons hiding in the shadows, not daring to show its face with this girl walking around, her intentions to anyone…

Deadly.

*

In a realm of white cathedrals and marble floors, beings of another type raged and argued amongst themselves about the fate of the world. All sat in a gleaming room, set up much like a human courtroom. But, these beings were anything but human. Their status seemingly higher.

They were The Powers That Be. 

Six beings sat at a long, crescent shaped table. They were dressed in golden clothes, their essence shining brilliantly. Their faces were oval shaped, their features perfect. Three men and three women sat, their eyes glowing silver. 

"Please impede the quarrelling." One of the women, named Geneva, said tolerantly.

"This is unacceptable!" One of the lower beings raged. "She cannot be allowed to do this!"

"We have no control over what happens in the mortal realm. All we can do is warn and presage." Another woman, Celesta, stated.

"The Slayer is going to ruin the mortals! She cannot state the difference between good and evil. Not anymore." Another lower being said desperately.

"We need help. Admit it, Geneva." Another dared.

"I am not denying that this is a matter that we cannot handle by ourselves. But, there is no way to contain this girl. She was handed a duty. She is not able to fulfill it. This an imperious matter to be handled." She said gratingly.

"True." Celesta agreed, her eyes narrowing. "But, we cannot under any circumstances, kill her. That will prove nothing, solve nothing. We must contact the mortal world. We have to warn them."

"We have." Stated one of the men, Jean. "We've been sending messages to the mortal seer. She knows what is to come."

"But, she is not strong enough to handle the Slayer! No on is, can't any of you see that?" Aura, the last woman, declared. "The girl's mortal half has been shattered! She is gone, hiding behind the Slayer within her. She's letting the Slayer out. Without the girl to balance the whole affect, all could be lost in a matter of weeks, day even." Her voice was angry. "She needs help."

"You're correlation to the Slayer is touching." Jean said dryly. "Touching indeed. Do not let it faze your vision on this matter."

"This matter?" Aura raged. "This is more than a matter, Jean, and you, as well as I do, know it. With careful calculation, we chose this girl. She's outlived many of our other choices. Lost everything time and again, but still she fought. We owe her."

"We owe her nothing!" Jean scoffed. "She is a pawn in the fight against evil."

"She is upsetting the balance!" Geneva countered. 

"And, how do you propose we help this girl?" Israfel, after listening to the arguments, asked softly.

"We must travel to the mortal realm. We have to converse with Angelus. He is the only one who might save her and the world."

"You want to make a deal with a vampire?" Jean laughed. "Impossible."

"Not as impossible as you might think, Jean." Celeste chuckled. "Put away your tribal arrogance and keep quiet." She commanded.

"My Lords?" Came a small cry as a smaller beings scurried into the conference.

"Yes?" Aura asked.

"Dimensional tracking indicates that the Malevolence has moved upwards." He said quickly. "Vara and Shiva have ordered their entourage to see Angelus."

"My God." Geneva sighed. "Then, we will go as well."

The six beings linked their hands with each other and were gone within seconds.

To the City of Angels they went.

*

The winds had begun to pick up in the city. Leaves and papers blew past, as if trying to get away from the inevitable. Cordelia watched with uncaring eyes. This was no surprise to he. It could only get worse from here on out. She turned away from the window and looked into the empty lobby. No one had come all night. It was as if they knew, everyone knew, what was going to happen. 

"Cordelia, are you alright?" A voice asked, making her jump.

She whirled around, a glare set in her face, to see Wesley standing there.

"Don't do that." She berated, then sighed. "No. I am not alright."

He nodded and touched her shoulder comfortingly. She tried to smile, trying to be brave. 

"You don't have to do that." He whispered, his eyes meeting hers. "You don't have to be brave."

"Yes I do." She countered gently. "Or else, I'll fall apart and I cannot do that. I have to be strong. I have to try and help her. I owe her that much."

Wesley nodded and smiled softly.

Something changed between them at that moment. Something subtle, though they both felt it.

But, the spell was broken when the doors crashed open. Cordelia jumped and Wesley stood in front of her. The lobby grew chilled and six lone figures stood in the middle of the room. Three men, three women. They wore black and red, each resembling each other, but looking nothing alike. They all had hair of a dark raven color, their eyes a gleaming red. They walked into the room, their smiles full of bad intentions.

A women stepped forward, truly a beauty. But, there was an air about her that reeked with death and horror.

"Please excuse us for coming unannounced into your facility with no warning nor invite." She apologized, seeming sincere. "But, what we are about to explain to you is of dire importance. There was no time for consultation. It would be best to call everybody down here, if you do not mind." She said, her eyes serious, her tone foreboding.

Wesley nodded and went up the stairs hurriedly.

Cordelia watched them all with a critical eye. They talked amongst themselves mutedly. She could feel her hair rising on the back of her neck in warning. These were not good people.

The woman who had spoken looked at her and smiled gently.

"Do not fear, dear girl. We don't come to hurt you or your friends. We want to aide you." She said to her.

"For what purpose, I wonder?" A new voice said. 

Cordelia looked to the door and saw a new groups of people. Once again, there were three men and three women. They were golden haired with cerulean eyes. They wore Roman-like robes of white material, silk maybe.

"Geneva." The black-haired woman spoke. 

"Vara." Geneva said, with a smile. "How good to see you again."

Cordelia just blinked at the strange exchange. 

"What are you doing up here?" Geneva asked Vara.

"I might ask you the same. You've finally come down from your heavenly mountain." Vara retorted.

"And, you've come up from your hellish pit." Another girl bit out.

"Enough!" A voice boomed.

Cordelia turned and saw Angel coming down the stairs.

"What is going on?" He asked.

"I don't know." Cordelia shrugged wearily.

"Calm down, my sweet." Vara smiled. "First, let me introduce ourselves before we get into any discussions. I am Vara, one of the six members of the Malevolence. This," she said, gesturing to another man. "Is Shiva. Raven, Dinah, Julian, and Golan." She said, going from the other two women to the other two men.

"And I am Geneva. This is Israfel. This is Aura and Jean and Celeste and Tyros." She said pointing them out. "We are the Powers That Be."

No one said anything.

And, then Gunn spoke. "You've got to be shitting me."

Vara broke out into a smile, but said nothing.

"I get it." Fred spoke up. "You are the 'bad' PTB and you are the 'good' PTB." She said, pointing from Vara and her entourage to Geneva and hers.

"Perceptive little thing, aren't you?" Dinah smirked.

Fred frowned and said nothing.

"Hey." Angel warned. "What I'd like to know is why, of all of the times we've had problem, are you here now?" 

"This is more than a mere problem!" Celeste cried. "This is a catastrophe waiting to happen!"

"If we do not stop your little Slayer, then all will be lost. For everyone." Jean scoffed.

"We're handling it." Angel said firmly.

"And, what a great job you're doing of that. Do you want to see first hand what is going on? What that girl is doing. She's killing everything and anything in her path! Good and evil!" Jean yelled.

He waved his hands and a sphere like screen appeared in the middle of the room.

"Jean, no." Aura pleaded.

He muttered to himself and everything could see the blonde Slayer ripping off the arms of a human with her bare hands. She laughed as she did it, her eyes wild and her clothes bloodstained.

"Buffy…" Angel whispered.

"You can't run!" She screamed to no one. "I will find you and you will PAY!"

Geneva got rid the screen with a wave of her hand.

"Do you see of what dire importance controlling her is? She will destroy the world in a matter of weeks at this rate." She said gravely. 

"You talk of controlling her, like she's nothing but cattle!" Cordelia exploded. "She is a human being! No matter if the Slayer's inside of her! She is a girl, a girl who was violated in the most hurtful way! And, to ice the fucking cake, she watched her sister die! You can't control her!" She screamed.

Cordelia swayed on her feet and crumpled to the floor, her eyes open and moving around wildly.

She was having a vision.

Vara just looked at her.

"Well. Shall we move on?"

TBC


	7. Chapter Six

****

Part Six

+Delirium+

It had been a very long night. So much had happened in such a little time. There were so many people who didn't understand what was happening. And, at the same time, there were too many people who understood all too well what was happening. 

Too many knew the consequences. 

Not enough knew the cure.

If, there was even one.

*

The first thing she noticed that it was cold. Her skin seemed moist and clammy. It was strange. She had never felt as she did in this moment. Slowly, she opened her eyes, expecting for bright light to hit her sensitive retinas. 

But, there was nothing. She saw nothing. Heard nothing.

"Hello?" She called, then realized with a jerk that nothing had been said.

Her ears popped, painfully, a rushing sound filling her head. It was like she was in an airless vacuum. 

Something wasn't right.

Tears sprung her eyes as she vainly tried to do…something. But, were they real tears? Or, was she just imagining them. Was she even here? Was she even herself?

"Dawn." Something said, breaking the vacuum-like bubble she was in.

The sudden sound hurt her ears. She instinctively covered them, shocking herself when she felt her own flesh beneath her fingers. 

"Dawn. Listen to me. Focus on my voice." 

She tried, oh did she try. But, it was so hard not to get lost in the nothingness that surrounded her.

"Imagine hard ground beneath your feet. Imagine walking. Imagine being."

Dawn did. She imagined herself in the park. Walking, in flip-flops. Feeling the cool grass fold under her.

"Good girl." The voice said. "Open your eyes."

Dawn did. She gasped at what she saw.

Nothing.

An endless, pulsating sky of nothing. 

"Oh God." Dawn mumbled, stumbling in nauseating dizziness.

"Shh." The voice soothed. "Shh, it's ok. Just focus. On one thing." 

Dawn tried. The gray mass seemed to be pulsating. Seemed to move and reach out for her. Dawn fell to her knees and was dimly surprised when it hurt to hit the ground. She looked at her hands. So pale and tiny against the gray nothing. 

"Where an I?" Dawn whispered, mostly to herself.

"You're in the limbo." The voice said, sounding hauntingly familiar.

"This is a nightmare." Dawn mumbled, fascinated by her hands.

"It is." The voice agreed. "This a nightmare that you're living in, no pun intended."

"Am I dead?" Dawn asked in a shaky voice.

"Yeah. You are." The voice sympathetically said.

"I-I don't remember." Dawn stammered, confused.

"Don't try too. Ignorance can be bliss. Enjoy it while it lasts." The voice said bitterly.

"Who are you?"

"A friend. Your guardian angel, so to speak. I'm here to lead you."

"Lead me where?" Dawn asked tiredly.

"To your destiny."

*

The floor was cold. And hard. She lay there, staring at the cracking ceiling. She was exhausted, her mind racing, conjuring half-thoughts and unfinished wishes. The coppery smell of blood filled her nostrils with every breath she breathed. It made her excited, murderous, and tremble with cold dread all at the same time. Tara's blood. Her blood. Her sister's blood. Warren's blood. 

A low snarl filled the room.

Again and again, the image of him killing Dawn played in her mind. 

The click of the gun.

The sound the bullet made as it made it's way through the long tube of the gun.

"No."

The sound of her voice echoed among the stone walls. The sound ceased the movie in her head. Made it go blank. For that, she was grateful. Extremely, utterly grateful.

"Well, well, well. What do we got here?" A voice boomed, making her wince.

Slowly, she turned her head, knowing full well who it was.

Spike.

She trembled in fear.

He walked to her and kneeled down. He trailed a cold fingertip down her cheekbone. She shivered and turned her head away.

"What's this?" He asked. "Baby doesn't want to see me?"

She whimpered.

He laughed. His eyes gleamed evilly as he grabbed her by her arms and dragged her up. He slammed her against the wall and she saw stars. All of the ferocious anger that had filled her so completely was gone, replaced by fear. 

"Bet your little Angel never had ya up against a wall, now did he?" He murmured into her ear. "This could be fun."

"Noooo…" She moaned, a long, low, pitiful sound.

'Angel.' She thought. _'Angel, save me…'_

Spike tore open her sweatshirt. 

'Angel… Please…!'

In her mind, she pleaded and cried for her savior. 

But, he didn't come. 

"NO!" Buffy screamed then, clawing the vampire.

"Bloody hell, girl!" He roared and backhanded her.

She didn't know where she found her strength.

She brought up her knee and dug it up into his groin. His eyes bulged and he stumbled away. 

"No!" She screamed as she staggered hurriedly away from him. "I won't let you have me!" 

"Too late." Spike smirked. "I'm in you, Slayer. You feel me. You writhe for me. You're mine." He murmured and lunged for her.

Buffy rushed to the mausoleum door and got out. The first rays of sun hit Spike and he started to smolder.

"Fucking bitch!" He screamed in pain.

Tears streaming, knees weak, Buffy ran away from the sun lit graveyard.

In her mind, she once again pictured herself curling into a ball. The Slayer within her stepped in front of her and protected her. 

'I can help you' The Slayer whispered soothingly. _'Let me help you.'_

In her mind, Buffy nodded.

She was safe, like this.

The Slayer would protect her.

*

Cordelia had stopped shaking long ago. She just seemed cationic at the moment. Angel worried for her. How many more of these could she take? How much more torment could Cordelia relive?

"She'll be fine." The one named Dinah said to him,.

He looked at her. Her shortly cropped black hair seemed to move on its own, her eyes sparkling like flowing blood.

"She must be ready." Geneva said in a soothing voice. "She must know."

"She's not strong enough!" Fred cried.

"Silly human girl." Vara laughed. "This seer, she is stronger than any of you know. Why, she could have had the potential for a Slayer."

"Vara." Celeste growled. "Do be quiet." She looked at Angel. "Geneva is right. Cordelia must be ready for what is to come. This Slayer, Buffy, will be coming soon. You must know the lock to which the key goes to, before you are able to open the door."

"The key?" Wesley asked. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"It is a figure of speech." Dinah scoffed. "I hate the mortal realm…"

"She's hurting, Angel." Cordelia muttered softly. "She is running. Hiding in herself. God, she hurts…" Cordelia stifled a sob.

"When will she come?" Angel asked, his expression almost feral.

"Soon, my warrior." Geneva smiled. "Soon."

"I need to know!" Angel exploded. "I need to know how I can help her!"

"You can't. Not now. It's far too late." The one called Aura softly said. Her sapphire blue eyes glimmered with tears. "It's too much, too hard, too late." 

"She's killing." Cordelia murmured. "She wants their blood. An eye for an eye."

"You're very right." Geneva said. "The Slayer will kill those who have hurt her. Except one demon."

"Spike." Cordelia said with anger.

"Yes. She cannot face him, he who broke her." Celeste finished.

"I'll kill him then." Angel growled.

Vara laughed. "I have no doubt you will. But, just be careful that don't lose yourself in that temper of yours, boy."

Cordelia stifled another sob. "She'll be here soon. And, when she comes, all hell is going to break loose."

"Can't we stop her?" Fred asked.

It was Wesley who answered.

"No. You cannot. If you get in her way, she'll surely kill you. This isn't the first time something like this has happened."

"Tell us." Angel ordered.

Wesley looked at his tense features. "It's just like what happened with Faith kill a human. Slayers have killed before. Just like they have been…violated. Trust makes Slayers weak. Why do you think the Council forbade friends and family. Trust."

"Buffy didn't trust Spike!" Angel exclaimed.

"Yes she did." Cordelia said, still staring. "With her life."

"She thought Spike wouldn't hurt her. She thought she could stop him. She didn't and now the poise of control and power is gone. Her perception of evil is blurred. The one she trusted hurt her. Everything she sees is classified as evil, in her mind." Wesley said.

Vara clapped. "Very good, counselor." 

Cordelia groaned and looked like she was going to vomit. "She's going to kill Warren. And Jonathon and Andrew. And, there's nothing any of us can do." She paused. "I hope she annihilates the bastards. I hope they suffer!" She hissed.

"Cordelia!" Fred gasps.

"Oh, just stop!" Cordelia yelled. "They killed her sister. What did Dawn do? Nothing! She was just a kid… A baby in this world…"

No one said anything.

Because, she was right.

*

Xander squealed to a stop in front of the Magic Shop. Willow rushed out, leaving the door open. The rain had stopped and the dawn was coming. Willow rushed into the building and froze at the damage. 

"Tara!" She gasped, seeing the girl laying in a pool of crimson blood and gasp. 

"Oh God…" Xander moaned.

"Xander?" A voice whimpered.

"Ahn?"

Willow rushed to the fallen girl and cradled her blood stained body. "Tara, Tara, Tara…" She gasped. "No!"

"Is she dead?" Anya asked, being cradled by Xander in his arms.

"Tara…" Willow moaned. "Open your eyes…"

There was no response. The girl wasn't breathing. She wasn't moving. Willow pushed her fingers against her neck, praying for a pulse.

She gasped.

There was none.

"No!" She screamed. "Tara!"

Anya buried her head in Xander shoulder as he called 911. 

The stench of coppery blood filled the air they breathed. 

*

"What are we going to do?" Andrew stuttered, his whimper echoing in the empty condo.

The 'Three' were huddled in the bathroom of Giles' condominium. Giles, himself, was laying unconscious on the living room floor. 

"Guys? We're going to die." Andrew rambled. 

"Andrew. Shut up." Warren snapped. 

"It's your fault." Andrew whined. "Whatever you did made the Slayer angry!"

Warren held his hands over his bleeding wound. He could feel himself growing weak and woozy. 

There was a sudden thud downstairs.

The 'Three', stopped, silent. 

Another thud.

"Oh, man!" Jonathon sighed, fearfully.

Thud. Up the stairs.

"Damn you, Warren!" Jonathon cursed.

Andrew whimpered.

Thud. Outside the door.

"God, oh God, oh God…" Andrew chanted.

And the door opened…

*

The monitors connected to the pale, blonde girls beeped annoyingly, assuring everyone that she was alive. 

Willow held her hands, tears rolling down her cheeks.

'Severe head trauma…swelling of the brain…chance of permanent loss of conscious.' 

That's what the doctors had said. 

They didn't know how bad Tara's injuries were. Her heart had stopped in the Magic Box and paramedics had revived her. The swelling of the brain and lack of oxygen to the brain may cause brain damage. 

Willow sobbed softly.

Buffy had done this. Buffy had carelessly thrown Tara into the glass case, not caring the she hadn't opened her eyes. Not caring the she'd lost so much blood… 

Her eyes narrowed and darkened. 

Buffy did this.

Her lips twisted into a snarl.

It was Buffy's fault.

Tears rolled down her cheeks in rage and sorrow.

Buffy would pay.

TBC


	8. Chapter Seven

****

Part Seven-

+Tribulation+

The sun was up. The wind was blowing. It seemed like the perfect day in a perfect town. That sentiment was dead wrong. Underneath the sun, hiding in the shadows that lay across the bodies of the dead, the demonic, and the wicked. All lay in the shadows, quivering in fear. The Slayer was after them. The feeling of death lay still and heavy in the light breeze. Keening whimpers and harried pants of the all that was evil could be heard in the dark.

She was coming.

*

__

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

The sound went on and on for hours. More than that. It would go on for however long she stayed alive. 

__

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

With only a second of pause in-between, the beeps were a steady, reliable sound. As long as it beeped, she lived on. Her blonde hair was matted with blood and grime. The smell of ginger and dried blood wafted from her locks and skin. Her face was pale and her eyes close and bruised. Tiny scratches crisscrossed through her skin. The angry red marks stood out on white skin. 

She could have been dead.

She could have died.

She may be dead.

__

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

That damned beeping sound was the only, only sound that meant that she was still alive. A small cry of anguish escaped the other girls' lips. Her best friend, her partner, her…Tara.

The red headed girl cried. Cried for what hung in the balance. Cried for what was now lost, in that same balance. She couldn't feel Tara anymore. But, she could feel Buffy. She could feel her pain, her anguish, her numbness. 

"What am I supposed to do?" Willow asked in a chocked voice. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do…!" She buried her face in her hands and cried softly. 

"Willow." A strange sounding, yet achingly familiar voice whispered from behind her.

Willow slowly turned around, wiping hot tears from her face. Her eyes widened and she gasped softly. "Oh…my God." She stammered. "Oz?" She whispered.

There he stood, leaning against the doorway of the hospital room. He looked the same as he did the last time she saw him. His green eyes glittered and moved about the room. He came toward her and she stiffened. This wasn't Oz. The feeling, the vibe she got from him wasn't Oz at all. This was something else, something not human.

"You're not Oz." She stated. "What are you?" She demanded, standing defensively.

He shrugged. "I'm what you call a 'higher being'." He answered.

"Why do you look like Oz?" A terrifying thought came to her. "Is he dead?" She whimpered.

"Why would you care? You dumped him for Miss. Comatose over here." The thing said, gesturing to Tara.

Willow's eyes narrowed.

His lips twisted, making Oz's face seem unnatural. "Nah. He's not dead. I took this form because it would be familiar to you."

"What do you want?" Willow asked.

"I've got a message for you. You're needed in the City of Angels." He said.

"Why?" Willow questioned.

"They need you. More than Bewitched does here." He said, nodding to Tara,

"I can't leave her." Willow said.

"You don't get a choice here, Red. This world's all going to hell unless you and your friends get your act together. You got a Slayer to stop and a possible apocalypse to avert."

"Buffy is here." Willow said. "If I leave her here…" Willow trailed off, not wanting to go there.

"She'll be heading to the City of Angels soon enough. Pack up your friends and leave, leave before she can focus on you." The Oz-like thing said cryptically. "I gave you the message, Red. Remember that if you don't heed, the fate of the world's on yours." He warned and spun on his shoe, walking away.

Willow looked out the window, into the darkening sky. She had to leave. She knew this, but did not want too. For once in her life, she wanted to be selfish. Little did she know, that this thought of hers was ironic. For, most of the time, she accused Buffy of being selfish. Though Buffy always did what she had too, always gave up what she had too. Buffy was very rarely selfish.

And Willow was wrong. 

*

The door opened with a loud creak and a shadow entered the room. Andrew screamed, scurrying for the corner of the room. Warren tried to move fast, but his wound stretched and opened again, causing him to grunt in pain. Jonathon just stood in shock. Tonight he would die. He knew it, could picture it in his head. 

"Bloody hell!" The shadow cursed from the doorway. 

It was Giles. The 'Three' nearly feinted in relief.

"What the hell did you hit me with?" Giles demanded in pain.

"Um, a vase…" Jonathon murmured. 

""Bloody…" Giles moaned. 

"We have to leave! She'll find us!" Warren demanded.

"You bloody fool." Giles laughed bleakly. "Don't you understand that she'll find you no matter where you go? She'll hunt you down until the end of time. If it's true, if you've killed Dawn, her sister, her life, then she will never give up. And, if you run and she finally does find you, she'll make your deaths as painful as possible." Giles said forebodingly.

"That's why you have to help us!" Warren wheezed.

"No." Giles shook his head. "You see, Dawn was like my own daughter. And, as far as I am concerned, Buffy is my daughter. You've killed my family!" Giles growled in Ripper fashion. "If she doesn't kill you, I will!"

Lightening flashed and illuminated the dark room. In the doorway, Buffy stood staring blankly at them. Her eyes were dead. There was nothing human there. No soul, no remorse, no caring. 

She would murder them and rejoice. 

"Leave, Giles." She said in an empty tone.

He looked at the boys with contempt. "May you get what's coming to you."

He put a tentative hand on Buffy's shoulder. She didn't react. He left the room silently, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he left, Buffy pulled out the bloodstained knife. 

"If I had a gun…I would shoot you like you shot her. I would make somebody that you love watch as the blood oozes out of you. Watch as your eyes glaze over and you struggle to take your last breath. The way I had to watch her blood pour out and her lungs gasping, struggling to breathe another breath." She said quietly, shakily. A sick smile spread across her face. "But, even so, I'm sure I can improvise."

Buffy raised the knife and brought it down, the metallic gleam lighting the horror on the boys' faces.

*

Giles walked out of the house, his eyes trained in front of him. He had packed a small bag. As he shut the door, he could hear screams. Terrified screams of fear, pain, and death filtered through the walls.

And Giles felt no remorse as he kept walking, never looking back.

*

"Are you sure you're ok?" Xander asked Anya.

"I'm fine!" She snapped, pushing him away. "I have scratches. Little, tiny scratches. I won't die." She rolled her eyes. 

Xander's lips pursed with silent worrying. It was broken as he saw Willow making her way toward them.

"Oh no…" Anya murmured in annoyance.

"How is she?" Xander asked, ignoring Anya.

"Unconscious. No change." Willow answered in a clipped voice. "We've got to go." She said, picking up her purse.

"What?" Anya asked.

"We're leaving. We've got to go to Los Angeles." She said to them.

Xander's nose wrinkled up. "Dead boy lives there." He said disdainfully.

"Yeah. That's why we're going." Willow said. "Let's go." She said when they didn't move.

"Wait, wait, wait." Xander said. "Hold up. Why are we going? What about Buffy? And…Dawn?" 

"Buffy is going to LA. We've got to stop her from doing…something. I think Angel knows more than us. And Dawn, she's dead." Willow whispered. "Just, come on! We have to leave!"

"Yes." Another voice said. "We do."

Giles stood behind them, looking grave and pained. There was a darkened lump on his head that looked very sore. His hair was wild and curly, his eyes closed off and dark. There was dried blood on his rumpled Oxford shirt.

"What happened?" Xander asked him, reaching out to steady the older man. 

Giles evaded his hands, his eyes cold. "We need to leave. Now." He said again. "There's no time to take anything with us. I'm sure Angel will provide for us once we get there."

Xander blanched slightly. "Angel…" He murmured agitatedly.

"Do get over your pissing contest with Angel." Giles sighed angrily. "What is going on now is more important than this little strife you have with Angel." 

Xander shut his mouth and stood up, helping Anya up as well. "Whatever Giles. Let's go if we're going." Giles nodded once and limped his way to the front doors, his little tribe following him.

"Tara…" Willow murmured very softly before they walked out.

Giles turned to her. "I know your pain. But, there is nothing more to do for her. Perhaps she is safer, the way she is. Buffy needs our attention and our help now. Tara would want us to help." He said softly to her before turning again and walking to the car he'd parked out front. 

It was a newer SUV model. One that Willow, Xander and Anya had never seen before. If it were a different time, a different place, they would have teased him about it. They would have all laughed, all been a family. 

But, they were here, and now. Stuck between the darkest hour, the fate of the world, and the well-being of the one person that held them all together. 

Off to Los Angeles, they went. 

*

The smell of fresh blood hung heavy in the air. Scream of pain and horror rung in her head like church bells. She sat in the corner of the room, her eyes wide open, her breathing shallow. Her knees were tucked under her chin and she silently rocked, not able to tear her eyes from this scene of destruction. 

__

//"Please! Please, no!"//

Drying blood was spattered everywhere, in every inch of this small room. 

__

//"Just kill me! J-just kill me…"//

The walls seemed to bleed, caked with human flash and matter.

//"I didn't mean to hurt her! I didn't mean too!"//

Wet, gory bones littered the floor, ligaments and muscle still attached, still fresh.

__

//"Ughahh! W-why? Why, why, why, WHY?!"//

Their screams rang in her head, over and over, and over again. She put her hands over her ears and shut her eyes tightly.

//"Buffy, please stop!"//

Sucking in a breath, the room seemed to close up on her. The bloodied walls moved towards her, closing her in, locking her away. In her hallucinated, hysterical state she was losing it. All and any threads of sanity that were left were rapidly disappearing. The sensation of overwhelming rage and swallowing grieve were overtaking her, making her cold, making her heartless. She no longer cared about anything. Anything, that is, except revenge. Revenge on those that had hurt her, revenge one those who were tainted, revenge for everything. 

Dawn was dead.

Her mother was dead.

There was just nothing left, no one there for her, or so it seemed. Her friends were blind. Her heart was shattered. And her body, violated. 

//"You're going to let me inside you…"//

"No!" Buffy gasped, sucking in a breath, shutting her mind off.

She didn't want to think about it. She couldn't afford to think about it. It would break her, and she couldn't have that. She had to be strong, had to be strong, strong. 

*

They had all been awake for at least 24 hours, at the most. It had been disconcerting enough handling Cordelia's visions. But, when you added the mystery of demonic ratings, a emotionally broken Slayer on the loose, and a couple dozen higher beings crashing the whole damn party, it got damn near crazy. 

Everyone had gone to sleep—or at least claimed too—a few hours ago. Nightfall was approaching, as was another bout of worries. Angel had no idea what was going on in Sunnydale. Cordelia had had no more visions. He had tried to call them there, but the phones had rung and rung with no answer. Worry and confusion wracked his brain to the point of near-pain. He didn't know how bad everything was and he was quite sure that he didn't ever want to know. But, he had too. Buffy was in troubled.

Buffy had been… 

The mere notion of the thought made him nauseous. And, by Spike. That thought made him want to kill everything he set his sights on. That son of a bitch… Buffy had let him into her life, into her home…and he had destroyed her. He had taken what she had given to him freely and he had crushed it to little shards of nothing. 

Angel's fists clenched and a wave over deep sorrow washed over him. Angel couldn't feel her. Ever since he had left LA, maybe even before then, he had been able to sense her. To feel her emotions just vaguely. It made him feel close to her. It made him feel as if he were still with her. He didn't feel as lonely, as lost. 

But, now…now there was nothing. There was no rage coming from her, no sadness, no grief. Just an empty nothingness that made him scared for her. If she wasn't feeling anything, then there was no telling what she could be doing. 

Hot tears burned his eyes. He stumbled away from the door and stood by the dresser. He put out his hand and leaned against it, burying his face in his other. God, he wanted to be strong for her. He needed to be. But, he couldn't not right now. He didn't know how to deal with this. He didn't know how and if he could help her. Angel didn't know if he could save Buffy. 

His shoulder shook with silent, heaving sobs. Hot tears ran down his cold cheeks, seeming to scald him. He was nearly hopeless right now. He didn't know what to do. This time, he couldn't push away his own feelings, he wasn't able to focus on the problem at hand.

"Buffy…" He murmured, his voice chocked and strangled. 

"It's better for you to let out your feelings now, for her." A voice from the doorway said.

Angel snapped to attention, his posture rigid and stiff. He saw one of the Powers, for the love of God he couldn't figure out who. His cheeks were wet, but he didn't care. He had no shame in this moment.

"What do you want?" He asked, his voice gruff.

The female Power shifted in the doorway, looking tired and uncomfortable. 

"I came to check up on you." She said, somewhat meekly.

"Why?" Angel asked.

She lifted her shoulder slightly. "You're a key figure in helping Buffy. You can't fall apart when the times comes to fight her."

Angel lifted his head slightly. "Why do you care?" He asked seriously. "The others don't give a damn. They just want their precious balance scored. They don't care about Buffy herself."

The girl met his eyes, hers glittering a sapphire blue. "I've watched her from birth." She said. "I've watched her grow and cry, and love and suffer. She didn't deserve any of it. But, she survived it. She's stronger than any of the others." The girl looked down. "I've pleaded in her case many times. I've defended her, grown close to her—probably closer than permissible. I know her."

Angel nodded once. "How am I supposed to do this?" He asked brokenly. "How am I supposed to save her, when I don't know how?"

"You can't save her, not from this." The girl warned. "This will haunt her for the rest of her life. All you can do is pull her back from the edge."

Angel turned around and looked out the window.

"If she hasn't already fallen off."


	9. Chapter Eight

****

Part Eight

+Apparition+

The City was dark and eerily silent as Giles drove into the city limits. Skyscrapers sparkled and disappeared into the night clouds. The roads were fairly clear and it was an easy ride the whole way. Many people were leaving Los Angeles, as opposed to entering it. Giles faintly wondered if regular people had some sort of instinct about the demonic sort of life. He wondered if common sense played a part in it. Did people leave because they could feel the shirt in the balance? Because they could feel the demonic shift rising? 

His thoughts were interrupted by Willow shifting in the seat beside him. She murmured something softly and leaned against the window, still sleeping restlessly. The children had fallen asleep shortly after being on the road. Giles knew that they had had a tough night. He was grateful that they were getting rest while they could. He had a feeling that in the time coming, rest wouldn't be anything more than a bare necessity, one they may not have time for. 

Giles slowed to a stop and peered at the giant hotel looming before him. The windows were lighted and he could see shadows of people behind sheer curtains. He sighed as he accelerated again and pulled into the long, curving driveway. He mindlessly admired the night blooming jasmine and the gardens on roses stretching the grounds. It was a lovely site. A perfect place for rest and rehabilitation. 

Buffy would love it here…

Giles stopped the car by the front doors and parked the car. He gently nudged Willow, rousing her awake.

"Wha-?" She mumbled, jerking awake. 

"We're here. Please wake the others." Giles said softly.

He smiled tightly, his cheeks stretching. Giles grabbed the keys and got out of the car. He strode toward the font door of the hotel and stopped for a moment. 

__

'This is her last hope', He thought to himself, _'If Angel cannot help her, no one can…'_

"Hurry along." He called to the 'children'. 

Anya was leaning on Xander, exhausted and yawning. Willow's face was pale and her eyes were dark. Xander looked drawn and scared. Giles held the door open for them and then walked in himself. 

The lobby was busy, very busy. He could see Angel in his office. Cordelia was sitting close to Wesley. There were some very…strange looking people there. They looked familiar to Giles, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. 

Giles cleared his throat rather loudly, to get their attention. He saw Cordelia's head shoot up as she jumped. Wesley looked at them, taking off his glasses.

"Rupert…" He said, walking over to greet the older man. 

"Wesley." Giles nodded in return. 

Angel had seen them also, and was walking to meet them, his strides long. Giles noticed his eyes were slightly puffy. He looked as if he had been through hell and back—again. 

"Giles. How are you?" Angel asked, his brown eyes speaking volumes. 

"I have been better, but I suppose we all have." Giles answered, shaking the younger—appearance wise—man's hand. 

"If I may, what are you four doing here?" Wesley asked, sending a small smile to the younger, haggard looking three.

"Isn't it obvious?" Anya spoke up in tight pain. "Buffy's lost it. Everybody is in such a frenzy because we have to help her and no one knows how. Not even you." She said to Angel.

Angel blanched slightly. His eyes went to the floor, his hands clenching tightly.

"Anya, stop." Xander said quietly.

"I didn't mean anything by it." Anya said. "I'm just telling the truth. How do you stop an emotionally broken Slayer? Without killing her, without hurting anyone else? Especially when she's hurting like this. God, I can feel it!" Anya's voice broke into an angry moan. 

"What do you mean?" Wesley asked, jumping in on her.

"I'm a Vengeance demon. I feel the pain of women everywhere. But hers…" Anya eyes went blurry and she seemed to be in a trace. "Her pain is like nothing I have ever felt before. It cries out for revenge, but she's scared to face him… She's terrified…" Anya trailed off.

"She wants to kill him. She wants him to hurt like she hurts, God, she's going to make the world hurt like she does…" Cordelia finished where Anya had left off. 

"Oh, please cut the melodramatics." A sardonic voice cut in.

Everyone looked at a dashing woman dressed in red silk with raven curls hanging, framing her milky white face. 

"Vara." Giles said disbelievingly.

She turned his way and squinted, then gasped softly.

"Ripper?" She asked in shock, then laughed. "Good God, I'd have thought you dead by now."

"What the in the bloody hell are you doing here?" Giles demanded in his quiet, deadly manner.

Instantly, everyone in the room could feel the heat of old tension flame up between the two. They had some sort of past, an old, complicated one.

""Why, my dear, I'm trying to keep _your_ Slayer from disrupting the balance." Vara sneered, her blood red slips twisting.

"Damn your valued balance, Vara. You know you care nothing for that." Giles scoffed.

Vara laughed in her sultry voice. "Rupert, you are becoming very paranoid and delusional in your old age, dear. It must take a lot of energy to play the caring watcher, the father figure. Don't you ever get sick and tired of playing the role you so hated once upon a time?" Vara asked, close to him now.

"Stop!" Angel barked, his patience wearing thin. "Look, I don't care why or how you two know each other. Deal with your issues later." He turned to Willow. "What's happened?"

"What hasn't?" Willow asked, her voice thick. 

Angel silently guided them away from the door and to the tacky red couches. 

"Dawn's dead. She was killed by Warren, he and two of his friends were wannabe bad guys. Nerds, really. Building robots and cameras and things like that. They weren't really that much of a big deal. We didn't think they were all _that_ dangerous…" Willow trailed off. "I don't know how it all happened. We were at the fair…and Buffy called us. She was rambling, crying one moment, screaming the next."

//"The floor was cold and so is Dawn".//

Willow's eyes closed tightly. "She said something about a gun, something about the floor, and Dawn being cold. She said Dawn was sick. That I needed to tuck her in."

Cordelia rocked back and forth, her eyes closed. 

"Where is she?" Angel asked, his voice tight.

"Presumably, on her way here." Giles answered.

Angel nodded once. "How long?"

"Give her 24 hours." Xander murmured. "If even that."

*

Her eyes snapped open and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The walls were dark red, almost a brown color. She knew this color, for she had seen it hundreds of time, staining clothes, skin, pavements, and countless other things. 

It was blood.

The smell of rotting flesh and dried blood filled the air, coating her throat and making her gag. She stood up fast, gasping at the sharp pain that stung her lower abdomen. She looked down, somewhat surprised to see a long slash in her shirt. 

"What the hell did you do?" A voice mixed with awe and horror asked.

She turned dazedly and stiffened. It was Spike.

"Go away." She croaked, cowering like a beat dog.

"My God." He laughed, his ice eyes gleaming. "You slaughtered them!" 

She looked up at him, confused. She had killed him. She remembered killing him. His blood was covering her. His brains and flesh was drying on the walls. She had killed him!...didn't she?

"I killed you…" She murmured slowly.

Spike snorted. "Not today."

"I did…" She insisted. "I cut you, I hurt you…!" She cried out, her voice cracking.

"You always hurt me, luv. But, not anymore. No, 'cause, I got you. I got you right where I want you." Spike said slowly, sauntering towards her. 

Buffy cowered into the corner, her eyes shutting. She had killed she knew she did. She remembered him screaming at her. 

//"Buffy, stop it, please, stop it…!"//

He had screamed, cried, and begged her to stop. He had cowered the way she was cowering now, trying to get away from her unyielding hands, from the slice of the knife. 

He stepped right in front of her, bending to roughly lift her to her feet. Still caught up in her mind, she did nothing. Her eyes were half lidded and her whole face was slack. Spike didn't like this. He wanted her whole attention. He slapped her cheeks with pleasure, making her wince as he lifted his hand again.

"Better." He murmured, his lips twisted. 

"N-no…" She whimpered, shutting her eyes and making her body go limp.

She seemed to squirm out of his hold, falling to the ground with a dull thud. She scrambled out of his reach and stood up, her back to the door, facing him.

"You can't hurt me." She whispered firmly. "You can't hurt me." She said haltingly. "Not anymore." She whispered, turning and fleeing out of the bloodied room.

Spike just stood there, somewhat dazed. He looked around the room at the mayhem and death. 

She did this.

Buffy did this.

*

Dawn stood on nothing, looked at nothing, and was surrounded by nothing. She didn't know what was going on, she was cold, confused, and extremely tired. 

She was alone here. The voice, whoever it had been, had left her. She still couldn't remember what had happened. She wasn't sure if she wanted to remember. 

Her head felt heavy, swollen even. There was a dull pain in her chest, a throbbing ache that reminded her of…something. 

Something she couldn't remember.

Dawn sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt unbearably lonely. 

And she was scared, scared of this empty, lonely place. 

"I want to go home." She whispered to herself, hugging her knees to her chest. 

She closed her eyes and blocked everything out. She didn't want to be here, in this place on solitude. Dawn craved for warmth, for laughter, for something besides what was here. She wanted to be in the light, having the war, rays of the sun shine down upon her.

"All in good time, darling." The voice from earlier soothed.

"You're back?" Dawn asked, her voice small.

"Yes, I am. I'm sorry I had to leave." The voice apologized.

"It's ok." 

Dawn opened her eyes and gasped in quiet shock. Gone was the gray mass of nothing; gone was the hard, cold ground. In its place, there were fields of crisp green grass and color flowers, all radiating in the luminosity of the yellow sun. 

"Where are we?" Dawn asked, her hand sweeping across the grass that surrounded her. 

"I've taken us to a higher place. Somewhere where you can be comfortable and rest." The voice said.

Dawn snorted, not looking up. "I'm dead. Why do I need rest?"

"Haven't you learned anything in your past life? Yes, the deceased may be dead, but we all need rest." The voice said.

Dawn looked up and saw the owner of the voice. She was not surprised for deep inside, she had always expected to see her again.

"Jenny." 

Even in death, Jenny Calendar looked luminous. Her hair was dark and short, curling under just above her shoulders. Her skin was pale, but in the sun glowed like marble. Her eyes were sparkling, and soft, reassuring Dawn. 

"It's nice to see you again, sweetheart." Jenny smiled down at the girl. "I'm sorry that it's under suck dark circumstances."

"Giles still loves you." Dawn blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

Jenny smiled softened more. "I wish he wouldn't. It's been years since I died. He needs someone, someone alive." 

"Do you blame Angel?" Dawn asked softly.

Jenny shook her head. "I knew it was coming. My Elders had foreseen it. But, it wasn't Angel, not really. I just wish I could have stopped t all from happening. I wish I cold have stopped all the pain that ensued." 

"Buffy ran away. I remember being so scared for her." Dawn murmured. 

"She was fine." Jenny countered. "I watched out for her."

"Is she ok now?" Dawn asked anxiously.

"No. She is nowhere near 'ok'. She needs our help." 

//"Buffy!" Dawn yelled, snapping her fingers in front of her sisters face.

Buffy jumped, her eyes wide. "What…?" She asked.

"What's wrong with you?" Dawn asks, all anger gone.//

Buffy's face flashes in front of Dawn's eyes. Matted hair, wide eyes, and purple bruises on her pale face.

"What happened to her?" Dawn asked, her voice wavering.

"She was raped."

*

She had never been a very good driver. 

The funny thing was, that driving had scared her. She was a Vampire Slayer and driving scared her. When she fought, she was able to control the situation. She could fight or back away. But here, driving on the highway, she wasn't in control. Cars were speeding past her, cutting across all the lanes their horns honking. 

Tears streamed down her face and she didn't know why. Her knuckles were white from clutching the wheel of the stolen car. She was bleeding in various places; gashes on her face, deep cuts in her arm, and raw wounds all over. Her shirt was soaked with blood; her own and whoever had gotten in her way. Her eyes burned and blurred as she tried to pay attention to the road. She felt numb.

She was heading to LA, running away from Sunnydale. 

Buffy knew he was following her. He would haunt and hunt her forever. She couldn't fight him she wasn't strong enough. He had the power to hurt her. 

Spike had the power to break her.   


**__**

Los Angeles Exit – 2 Miles

Almost there…


	10. Chapter Nine

****

Part Nine-

+Afraid+

Angel had not slept well in nearly two days. He felt slightly agitated, his nerve raw. He was fidgety, anxious to get something—anything—done. He kept looking toward the clock by the stairs. They were down to only mere hours until Buffy was expected to come. 

The Hotel was as crowded as ever. The incessant talking was giving Angel a headache, something he didn't need. Angel turned his back on everyone and crept up the service stairs. He was tired…

Each step seemed larger than life and the he was in his room. He leaned against the door and sighed heavily. He needed sleep. He needed to be ready. God, he needed to know what to do!

"I'm sorry, Buffy…" He whispered, not for the first time. 

With his head down, he walked further into the room. He avoided the window, for it was a sunny day. He looked and saw the adjoining-room door was open. He walked to the doorway and stopped, staring. This room was unlike his in almost every way. It was painted a power blue color, tiny little suns painted into it. A tiny crib stood in the middle, the wood a shining oak color. Toys cluttered one side of the room, stuffed animals sat on shelves. 

A small smile tugged at Angel's mouth as he watched. Lorne was singing a sweet song, one Angel didn't recognize. He watched silently before stepping further into the room. Lorne looked up and smiled.

"Angel-cakes." He greeted.

"Lorne." Angel nodded. "How is he?" Angel asked, bending over the crib.

"Peachy keen. I feed the little man a little while ago." Lorne answered.

"Good." Angel said, reaching down and picking up his child. "Hi sweetheart." He cooed, holding the baby close to him. 

Oh, it was moment like this when Angel felt free. He felt better than he had in awhile. For a moment, he forgot about all that was dire and just basked in his little boy. Angel bent his head and inhaled Connor's scent. He smelled of baby-powder and innocence. Connor gurgled happily in his daddy's arms.

"How's it going down there, Angel?" Lorne asked him.

Angel closed his eyes, reality hitting him full force.

"Bad." He sighed. "Buffy's Watcher and her friends arrived a little while ago. They're expecting her in a few hours."

"Has anyone been able to reach her?" Lorne asked gently.

"No." Angel answered. "No one has seen, much less heard, from her in hours. That worries me."

"Angel, you can help her. If anyone, it will be you." Lorne told him.

Angel shook his head. "I should have been there. I should have known. I told her I would always look out for her. I haven't talked to her since…" Angel trailed off slightly. "Since she came back."

"Angel, baby, your life has been hectic, as I'm sure hers has been. I'm not sure how ex's rate on your list of priorities." Lorne said gently.

"We're more than ex's." Angel said softly. "We were more than that."

"Damn right, you were. You two were in the history books, doll. A Vampire Slayer falling in love with a Vampire? You two have been prophesied." Lorne agreed. "But, life happened. She was a kid. You turned bad, she killed you, and you went to hell. You came back and you left. She grew up, you both did." Lorne sighed. "Angel, you grew apart. You both had your own lives. Don't blame yourself, you couldn't have known."

"But, I should have!" Angel hissed, keeping his voice light to keep Connor calm. "Spike is not good and he never was. He had a damned chip in his head and he was playing good for as long as it suited him. He didn't fall in love wither. He can't know what love is, because he doesn't have a soul! I've seen what he's done to those he 'loved'. Hell, I taught him everything he knows. Buffy turned into his obsession. She would never love him and he hated that. He had to have her." Angel hung his head. "He had to break her, because she loves me."

Connor's happy, soft coos filled the silence. 

"It will all turn out alright." Lorne said firmly. "You'll find her, you'll help her, and you'll bring her home."

Angel nodded, his eyes darkening as he spoke. "And I will kill Spike. I will make him pay for what he did to her…"

Lorne nodded and looked toward the darkening sky outside. "You and everybody else down there."

"No." Angel spoke. "Just me."

*

"Look at the clouds." Fred drawled softly, staring up at the skylights.

Willow looked up and saw the black clouds blurring across the sun. Thunder rumbled so loud, the glass windows shook in their panes. Lightening flashed menacingly across the heavens. 

"God, she's close, if not already in the city." Cordelia murmured slowly, her eyes struck with fear.

"Oh, she's in the city." Anya murmured, closing her eyes. "I think she's driving because she's coming really close, really fast."

"She won't come here first." Giles spoke up his eyes pained. "She's hurting, she's raging, and she wants the world to pay. We'll be the last stop she comes to."

"So, we're just waiting for her? We're going to let her wreak havoc on the city while we sit like freaking ducks?!" Xander exploded.

"What else can we do?" Willow retaliated, coming to life. "What do you suppose we do, Zeppo?" She mocked. "How about we give you a sword and tell you to kick her ass?"

Xander looked stricken and started to sputter something.

"Oh, sound familiar?" Willow asked, stalking closer. "It's always been you to put her down. It's always been you to flaunt her faults, God forbid we mention yours!" 

Xander's eyes narrowed. "This is not the same."

"Isn't it?" Willow asked. "You didn't want to come here, even though you know that Angel is one of the only people who can help her. You hate that is isn't you. You still hate that it will never be you." Willow was silent for one deadly moment. "In some ways, you're no better than Spike."

Xander seemed to lose himself for a moment. His face twisted into something vicious and ugly as he raised his hand and swung toward Willow's face. He was stopped only inches from striking Willow's face. A pearly white hand gripped Xander's wrist with bone breaking strength. Xander let out something between a whimper and a grunt.

One of the Power's held Xander like a lifeless doll. The humiliating thing for Xander was, it was one of the female Powers'. 

"Dear boy…" She murmured, her sapphire eyes glistening. "Dear, stupid boy. The Witch is right. For as long as I have watched you, you have been consumed with jealousy, with anger, and resentment. I've watched you take it out on that poor golden haired girl. You have missed much that is good in your life because of that hatred. You owe that girl your life, yet you still shame her."

"I love Buffy." Xander spit out angrily.

"Love is not odium." The beautiful Power hummed. "Love is pure and love is chaste and many people do not have familiarity of it. Love is not what you have in your heart." She let him go and glided back to her groups, her silk dress whispering across the floor.

The whole Hotel was quiet and no one knew what to do. Xander stood there, his features hard and his face pale. Willow looked at him with silent contempt. Fred and Gunn stared out the lobby doors, for it had started to rain. Wesley and Giles stood over musty books and tried not to think. Each group of Powers stood off to the side, watching, waiting, and congregating to themselves. 

Cordelia was watching the skylight with her gaze was slightly unfocused. She was shaking, so viably that the ends of her long raven hair weaved back and forth. 

"N-no…" She whimpered, her hands moving up to cover her face.

"Cordelia?" Wesley questioned, moving closer to her.

"STO-O-OP!" A scream broke free from the former May Queen's throat, so shrill, so loud that most everyone in the room winced and covered their ears instinctively. 

Cordelia eyes were wide as they rolled into the back of her head. Her hands fell from her face and her skin was revealed to be the color of eggshells. Her lips, once deep crimson, were now a tinted blue color as she crumpled to the floor, twitching and writhing. Her hands turned to fists as she thrashed around, whimpering, screaming, and crying.

"Cordelia!" Wesley exclaimed, rushing to her side.

"She's having a vision?" Giles asked, kneeling to the girls' side.

"Yes, damn it, another one." Wesley cursed. 

"Here!" Fred said, thrusting a small hand towel into Wesley's hand. 

Wesley shoved the towel into the seer's mouth then turned an angry gaze to the two groups of Powers.

"Why do you keep doing this to her?" He demanded.

"It is not we who are sending the girl the visions." Vara defended her clan.

"And, not us." Geneva stated, looking slightly bored. "You would very well know if we were sending her a message, which deceives the purpose since we are standing right over here."

"Then who?" Wesley asked, angrily.

Vara and Geneva shared a long, long look.

"We don't know."

*

Angel and Lorne looked to the floor when they heard shouts and screamed.

"Damn it." Angel cursed, handing his son over to Lorne. "I want you to place barriers all around this room. Nobody comes in here until you read them."

"No problem-o Angel-cakes." Lorne assured him. "Get your booty down there, I'll take care of the little mini-you."

Angel kissed his son's forehead, caressed his cheek, and ran out the door. 

Only after Lorne put down Connor and closed the door, he murmured. "Heaven help us."

*

Buffy's eyes opened blearily. She moaned as she lifted her head from the steering wheel. She could feel the stickiness of her own blood matting in her hair and drying to her face. She blinked and tried to focus out of the cracked windshield. A brick wall was close enough to her, that if she wanted too, she could touch it. 

Buffy looked around her and saw the dashboard had collapsed and the rest of the car had folded around her. Buffy wiped her hand across her face and groaned in pain. Her hand came back smeared with blood. Buffy whimpered and pounded on the crumbled door. She pushed and shoved at the jagged door until it broke apart from the wreck. She crawled out of the debris and fell to the cold ground. Buffy lay there for a moment, staring up into the clouded sky. Everything in her entire being hurt. She didn't remember crashing into the wall. She didn't remember much of anything anymore…

"Miss, are you ok?" A voice asked from nowhere.

Buffy jerked painfully to her feet and glared at the owner of the voice. An attractive man in a suit was standing a few feet away, watching her with concerned eyes. 

"Miss?" He asked again.

"G-get…away from me." Buffy murmured, her words slurring together.

"Miss, you're hurt. Please, let me call someone." The man said, gently taking her arm.

"You can't hurt me anymore!" Buffy yelled, stumbling away. "P-please, just go…" She begged him.

The man's brow furrowed as he looked from Buffy to the smashed car. "Miss, you're hurt."

Buffy looked up at the sky again. It had grown darker. She blinked to clear her eyes. She was dizzy and confused. She looked back at the man again. Wearing a navy blue suit with his hair perfectly coifed, he looked decent. He didn't look sly or devious. He looked like he genuinely wanted to help her. 

Maybe…

"Somebody's following me…" Buffy mumbled, trying to concentrate. "He wants to hurt me."

The man reached for his cell phone, nodding reassuringly to her. "Let me just call someone."

"No!" Buffy cried out. "No, no one."

"Ok…" The man look unsure now, maybe resenting that fact he tried to help her.

Buffy kept looking around, as if expecting something to jump out at her. 

//His rings scratch and cut her smooth flesh.//

Buffy's hands ran up the side of her head and into her hair. She blinked rapidly and grabbed the long, blood matted strands of golden tresses. She desperately tried to block it all out.

//"You love me, I know you do. You love me, you love me!"//

His voice rang in her ears and she could picture him hovering above her, breaking her, hurting her, leaving her helpless.

"No-o-o…" A long, deep moan escaped her lips.

"Miss?" The man was concerned now, bravely stepping forward. "Miss?" He asked again, taking her arm.

Buffy snapped at the feel of skin against skin. "No!" She screamed, pulling her arm away wildly. "No, you can't hurt me! You can't help him hurt me, I WON'T LET YOU!"

She pushed him away from her, lost in her rage. She searched for a weapon, but couldn't seem to find any. They were in the back of the car. But, there was no time to grab them. She had to get rid of him.

"You'll be sorry!" Buffy screamed as the man's face blurred from Spike's to Warren's. "You'll be sorry for hurting us!"

She stalked toward him and the man looked panicked. "Ma'am, wait, please. Just calm down."  


Though, those weren't the words she heard him say. Instead, she heard, "Your sister is dead, she's dead. You couldn't save her…_it was your fault_. Your weak, helpless, nothing but a little pathetic bitch!"

In reality, the man was begging. "Please, I was just trying to help you. Miss, you are hurt, your injuries…" He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence, for Buffy had grabbed him by his neck.

Her eyes were murderous and wild as she stared into him. Her bruised, blood stained lips curled into a sneer as she squeezed, watching his face turn white to blue as he struggled for air. 

"You can't hurt me anymore."

Buffy's words rang into the cold, stormy air as the light dimmed out of the man's eyes.

"Not anymore."

*

The winds grew as she moved across the city. As if in tune to her mood, to her state of mind, the storm brewed. Thunder clashed and lightening burst from the sky, sometimes hitting touching down to the ground. Strong winds blew her hair across her face and smeared the tears that ran down her dirty face. 

Pain, sorrow, and rage were etched in the very depths pf her soul. Every telepath, every mind reader, every soul gazer within city limits could sense that. Such pain, such fury radiated from this tiny girl. No one in his or her right mind would cross her path; except for the pitiful humans. The piteous humanitarians who wanted to help this hurt girl and found themselves dead in her path in her trail. 

Of course, it wasn't her fault. Her body and her strength were there, but her spirit wasn't. All that she had left in midst of her pain was the Slayer. A coldhearted, unmerciful killer that would stop at nothing to make everyone pay was all that was left. 

Lightened struck down from the clouds and illuminated her face for an instant. A pale, wane face with blurry, vacant eyes, and bruised lips. Even in this state, this appearance of ruin, she was beautiful. She radiated power and corruption at the same time. She drew those nearest to her to take a second look.

This was a girl with nothing left.

This was a Slayer with no more morality.

This was a girl broken, shattered, and devastated.

The City of Los Angeles trembled in fear of her wrath. 

Trembled in fear of her vengeance.

*

"She's here." Cordelia murmured, groggy and dazed from her recent vision. "She's killing again."

"Should we go and stop this chick?" Gunn asked.

"Yes, of course. We'll just waltz right up to her and politely ask her to stop terrorizing the city. Brilliant plan." Giles snorted impatiently.

"Yeah? And, what do you suppose we do, old man?" Gunn shot back.

"Listen here, you little—"

"Stop!" Angel's voice rang out from the din. He looked dead-tired and angry. "Bickering is not going to solve anything. It's sure as hell not going to help Buffy." He said, casting a glance toward Giles.

"Yes, I-I'm sorry. I suppose we all are a little bit high strung." Giles said blankly.

"Cordy, what did you see?" Angel asked tenderly to his friend.

Cordelia looked up, her eyes bleak. "She's losing herself. People want to help her and she wants them to help her, but she thinks everyone is trying to hurt her. Like Spike did. Like Warren did."

"But she killed Warren." Xander spoke up.

Cordelia looked at him sharply. "Not in her mind. She thinks they are still out there and she wants them to pay for what they did to Dawn."

"What if we can't stop her?" 

Willow's question hung in the air like the stench of death. No one knew the answer to that. No one wanted to answer that. None of them could bear the thought of losing Buffy--forever. 

"We have too." Angel said seriously, tiredly. "We will."

"This whole thing is around Dawn." Anya spoke up quietly. "She worked so hard to keep her safe from Glory. Buffy _died_ to keep her sister safe. Do any of you know what that means?" Anya asked, her eyes wide. "Buffy gave up everything for that girl only to have her ripped away from her. Buffy could have stopped Warren from killing Dawn, under another set of circumstances. But Dawn died and Buffy has to live with that forever." Anya paused. "And, then she was raped by Spike. She trusted him, God knows why, but she did. He insinuated himself into her life, he made himself a vital part in keeping herself strong. But, he wanted more than she was willing to give. He wanted all of her, not just the sex, he wanted it all and he took it."

Angel looked up sharply at the Vengeance Demon. "Sex?" He echoed his voice faint. "Buffy was sleeping with Spike?"

Anya blinked, realizing that she had just let the proverbial cat out of the bag. "Oh, crap." She shook her head. "I forgot you didn't know."

In less than three days, Angel had learned that the monster he had sired had raped the woman he still loved. He had learned that petty humans had killed Dawn right before Buffy's own eyes. His best friend was suffering because she was mentally linked to the distressed Slayer. He had been told that Buffy had been reverted to a cold-blooded killer, thinking everything and everyone was the cause of her pain.

Pain he should have been able to stop.

Both sets of Powers That Be had invaded his home, not helping in the least. And now, he was being told that Spike, the good-for-nothing bastard of a vampire, had been sleeping with Buffy. Spike had been taking advantage of her pain, of her confusion at being ripped from Heaven. 

Spike had been sleeping with Buffy. 

Spike had been having sex with Buffy.

His Buffy.

As he was a demon, he could take a lot of things and deal with them. But, there was a man there, too. A man that, at this moment, was jealous, possessive, and filled with pain. Angel could only take so much and he had been shoved right over his limit. 

He felt his fists clenching, his muscles becoming stiff and rigid. He felt the demon within his flutter restlessly, angrily. Angel had been trying to deny it, he had been pushpin the truth deep into the corners of his mind and living in denial. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks, making him reel in the aftermath. 

//"He raped her, Angel. Spike raped her."//

Cordelia's broken and tear filled voice echoed in his mind. Angel took a deep breath and looked at everybody. 

"Stay here. Research…whatever. Find some way to help her." Angel's voice shook with emotion. "I don't care what it takes. Just do it." He ordered, turning to leave.

"Angel, wait!" Cordelia cried out, jumping off of the chair and throwing her blanket to the ground.

Angel stopped, but didn't turn around. 

"Don't go after her, not yet." Cordelia said. "Not yet."

"It's not her I'm going after." Angel said, his voice hard. "Not her."

He clenched his fists again and left hurriedly, face in vampire form.

No, he wasn't going to find Buffy, not yet. 

He was going to locate Spike. 

And, then he was going to kill him.

Slowly, mercilessly, and maliciously.

The bastard would pay.

Dearly.

**__**

To Be Continued...

(I just want to thank everyone for the WONDERFUL feedback I'm getting! I love that all of you think I'm doing good on this fic. Feel free to send me anything at RougeVixen8705@aol.com or XxAngelicVixenxX@yahoo.com. Thanks again, everyone! ~Stacie)


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